Gypsy Spirits

by Marianne Spitzer

  “Bill,” said the sheriff when he walked into the hospital, “how’s Bulk?”

  “He’s sleeping. I had to give him a sedative to keep him calm. I’ve never seen him so upset. He kept mumbling it wasn’t his fault and the spirits were coming.”

  “It sounds as if Daniel Logan is rubbing off on him.”

  “Something is. I have a psychiatrist from Oaklin Hospital coming here in the morning to see Bulk. I think this is more than I can handle. That boy needs intensive therapy,” he said dropping medical charts onto a nurse’s desk.

  “I know you have to keep his records private. If he does give you, any clue about what happened at the cabin would you, please try and convince him telling me will only help?”

  “I will, but don’t count on it. He’s terrified of whatever happened. I’m not sure he’ll tell us, much less you.”

  “Maybe he’ll trust someone, and we can figure this out before those boys have the entire town in an uproar. Remember the hysteria with Mrs. Graysbe’s dogs. This situation is horrific in comparison. We can’t let it get out of control before we find out what went on.”

  “I agree. I have a patient to see right now. I’ll call you in the morning one way or the other.”

  “Thanks, Bill,” said the sheriff. He headed toward the doors.

  Sheriff Richardson had a terrible situation on his hands and knew it. He also knew he had to break one of the boys’ stories, or this would remain a mystery. Bulk was in the hospital. Garret wasn’t going to say a word without Daniel’s permission. Daniel might talk, if he was afraid enough, but his father had too much power to let Daniel be interviewed again.

  The sheriff hated to do what he was thinking, but his last hope was Annamarie. He knew she loved Daniel more than life itself and would protect him in every way she could. If he could convince her Daniel was in serious trouble and the only way to get him out was to cooperate, it might work. He had known her all her life, and she was an honest kid caught up in Daniel Logan’s life and fears.

  Yup, thought the sheriff while driving home, she might be my best bet.

  Chapter Eight: Hope

  When Annamarie woke she remembered the dream, but wasn’t afraid. She did wonder what trouble came in twos and what a red sea might be in Timmus Woods. Annamarie felt refreshed and less apprehensive about the weekend’s tragedy. She was confident the sheriff would straighten the matter out, and Daniel would see the solution had nothing to do with spirits or any other inexplicable thing. She was ready to face her day. It was barely seven o’clock when the phone rang.

  She answered, hearing the sheriff’s voice on the other end.

  “Good morning, Annamarie.”

  “Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m glad you asked. I’d like you to drop into the office this morning for a talk.”

  “Daniel has to be at work early this morning,” she began, but the sheriff interrupted her saying he wanted to speak to her alone.

  She was surprised and a little nervous about his request. Unsure what she could tell him, she thought for a moment before she answered. “I have to go to work first since Mr. Hanson is grieving and needs help. If he isn’t in the office, I’ll have to do my best to help the plant manager get things up and running.” Annamarie fought her tears at the idea of not seeing Ben at work. Dealing with the sheriff would be too much.

  The sheriff agreed she should go to work first and then stop by his office, reminding her they didn’t have proof the body was Ben’s.

  “Who else could it be?” She almost shouted into the phone. “I’ll see you around ten o’clock.” Hanging up, she turned around and saw Daniel staring at her.

  “What was all that about?”

  “The sheriff wants to talk to me alone,” she said, pacing nervously around the living room.

  Her comment set Daniel off, and Annamarie wasn’t ready for his behavior so early in the morning. She didn’t understand why he became angry. There was little she could tell the sheriff. Daniel insisted it was some sort of plot, and the spirits could be controlling the sheriff.

  “While you were in the shower Garret called,” Daniel said. “He can’t find Bulk anywhere. Garret thinks the spirits may have taken him.”

  Someone to back up her husband’s walk toward insanity was all she needed.

  “Forget about spirits,” she said her eyes pleading.

  He glared at her as he walked out the door, leaving her to resume getting ready for work.

  ***

  Before leaving, Annamarie sat down and contemplated everything that had happened and what the sheriff had in mind. Assuming he wanted her to either back or break Daniel’s alibi, she felt a glimmer of hope. She could go into Sheriff Richardson’s office, and swear she didn’t have any idea what happened at the cabin. It wasn’t a lie, since she hadn’t been there. Of course, she knew what Daniel told her, but Daniel was distraught. She couldn’t take everything he said seriously. Knowing if she repeated any of it to the sheriff, he would be ready to believe every word. It would destroy Daniel’s life.

  Ben was dead. The entire town was grieving. Annamarie knew in order to save Daniel from himself, not to mention the sheriff, she couldn’t let grief cloud her thinking. Determined to do her best and grieve on her own, she resolved to be strong around others.

  Her drive to work was somber. She fought the tears she felt building again. Knowing everyone would be in mourning at the dairy, she needed to be stoic. Everyone liked Ben, and whether or not the sheriff was sure the body found at the cabin was Ben’s, the rest of the town was convinced. She parked under a large tree hoping to keep her car cool and saw Mr. Hanson’s truck parked in its usual spot.

  Using the front doors, she went to her desk in the front office. This morning she dropped her purse in one of her drawers before walking to Mr. Hanson’s office door. She could see his door was partially open.

  Knocking quietly, Annamarie saw Mr. Hanson turn around in his old, creaky desk chair. “Can I help you, Annamarie?”

  “No. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Mr. Hanson merely shook his head, saying, “Thanks.”

  She explained the sheriff wanted to see her this morning, and asked when would be a good time to leave.

  Mr. Hanson looked at her with sad eyes. “I’m not sure there’ll ever be a good time for any of us from now on, Annamarie, but we need to help the sheriff find out what he can. Go now. Do what you can. If you can be back by eleven that would be good.”

  “I’ll be back in time,” she promised. Mr. Hanson slumped in his chair seeming as if his world had ended. Ben was his only child, and Annamarie knew he planned that someday the dairy would be Ben’s.

  Managing to hold back her tears until she was in her car, Annamarie began crying so hard she found it difficult to catch her breath.

  Tim, the plant manager, knocked on her car window.

  “Are you okay, Annamarie?”

  She shook her head. He talked to her soothingly until she calmed down. She was more than grateful because she wasn’t sure how she was going to talk to the sheriff in that state of mind.

  “I can drive you if you’re too upset.”

  Wiping her eyes, “I’m better now, thanks. I think I can handle things alone.” She was wrong.

  ***

  When Annamarie pulled into the parking area outside of the Sheriff’s Station, she saw a big, black Cadillac that could only belong to Mr. Townsend, Timmus Woods’ most prominent attorney. Mr. Townsend preferred to practice in town. He only traveled to Oaklin for court. There was just one reason he would be here. George sent him. Daniel must have mentioned she was going to see the sheriff and George surely wanted her well represented.

  She felt the anger in her grow. Losing a wonderful friend less than two days ago, she would help the sheriff. Knowing Daniel didn’t kill him was all that mattered to her.

  She didn’t want Mr. Townsend’s representation or help in any way. She needed to talk to the sheriff
alone. Remembering Daniel’s comment about what George was like if anyone upset him, added to her anxiety. Nevertheless, she was prepared to tell Mr. Townsend to go home.

  Entering the office, she saw Mr. Townsend talking to the sheriff and took a deep breath.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  They both turned, and Sheriff Richardson smiled.

  “I’m glad you came in early.”

  When Mr. Townsend began to explain, “George called me…,” she interrupted him.

  “Mr. Townsend, I don’t need your assistance. I plan on talking to the sheriff alone, but thank you for coming,” she said.

  Mr. Townsend’s face turned red. He picked up his briefcase and left.

  She looked at the sheriff. “I bet George will be here in ten minutes.”

  Sheriff Richardson responded, “I don’t take sucker bets.”

  They both smiled.

  The sheriff’s expression grew serious. He said, “We need to talk.”

  He led Annamarie into his office, gesturing for her to take a seat in the chair across from the desk. Offering her coffee or tea, she declined both. She wanted to talk, tell the sheriff what she could, and return to work.

  “I need to be back to work in time for Mr. and Mrs. Hanson to make funeral arrangements.”

  “I understand, but we’re not yet sure the body is Ben’s.”

  Despite her efforts to restrain her anger, it bubbled out of her uncontrollably. She leaned toward the sheriff, and in an extremely frustrated voice said, “Then where is Ben? Who the hell died at the cabin, and why are the Hansons making funeral arrangements today?”

  Annamarie realized at once she let her anger out on the sheriff and apologized. He was gracious and accepted, but she was completely embarrassed.

  “Tell me everything you know about that night at the cabin.”

  Panic struck her when she wondered how she could say she knew nothing while she knew quite a bit. Her reprieve came in the form of Greta’s voice coming from the front office.

  Greta was old enough to be Annamarie’s mom. One of the nicest people in Timmus Woods, she worked a few hours a day answering the phone for the sheriff, and waitressed during lunch and dinner shifts at Ray’s Diner. She lived in a small house inherited from her mother, along with six cats and four dogs. If she wasn’t one of the sheriff’s most trustworthy employees, Annamarie was sure by now the sheriff would have told Greta ten pets were too many for anyone. Not many people could tell Greta anything she didn’t want to hear, which is what started the commotion in the front office.

  ***

  Greta’s voice was loud and clear. “I don’t care who you are. You’re not going to see the sheriff when he’s interviewing someone.”

  Annamarie thought it must be George angry over her dismissing Mr. Townsend.

  Sheriff Richardson opened his door, and Annamarie saw an odd, elderly gentleman with a briefcase, and a stack of papers in his hands trying to argue with Greta. His baggy, brown suit was at least a decade old and he was wearing, of all things, tennis shoes.

  “Dr. Webster,” said the sheriff, “I didn’t expect you this morning.”

  “Well, I’m done so here I am.” Dr. Webster followed Sheriff Richardson down the hall to another room.

  Greta hurried in to tell Annamarie the sheriff would be with her, as soon as he’s through with the coroner.

  ***

  Coroner! Her mind raced. More time to think and worry. The hope she had this morning was beginning to turn to dread. Her biggest fear was the coroner would say Ben had been murdered, and the sheriff would think Daniel, Garret or Bulk were responsible. Maybe he’d think they all killed him, or there’s some sort of conspiracy. No, that was ridiculous. The boys had been friends since grade school. Even Garret would never hurt any of them.

  Steve walked in the sheriff’s office carrying a cup of black coffee. Annamarie was grateful he’d interrupted her thoughts.

  “How’s Daniel taking all of this?” He asked sitting down in the sheriff’s chair.

  “As well as can be expected, the situation is terrible. We can’t believe Ben’s dead.”

  “I know,” Steve said looking grim.

  She liked Steve and always wished he and Daniel had remained friends. They chatted about little things, Deb and his folks. They laughed about some of the crazy things they all did in high school. For a moment, she forgot why she was there.

  The sheriff’s voice in the hall saying goodbye to the coroner brought her back to reality, and the momentary laughter was gone. Her mind raced when it dawned on her Steve had no reason to ask her how Daniel was dealing with all the stress. He had spoken with him only last night. If they were supposed to try and be friends again, Steve wouldn’t try to bluff Daniel and her. Or would he? At this point, her heartache returned and she understood Daniel’s distrust of the sheriff.

  Steve stood up saying he better go before the sheriff caught him in his chair, and she promised she’d call Deb soon. Passing each other in the hall, she heard the sheriff tell Steve not to go far. They had something to discuss. Annamarie’s panic returned.

  Back in the office, Sheriff Richardson sat in his leather chair. He leaned forward elbows on his oak desk and simply stared at her for a minute or two. It was unnerving. Was that his plan? Her mistrust was growing. What did he expect? That the stress would break her and she would begin to tell him every detail of what happened at the cabin? That would be interesting since she didn’t know the details. What she did know terrified her, but she couldn’t tell the sheriff everything. That also frightened her. If he didn’t know, how could he help, and if he did know, her husband’s freedom could be in jeopardy.

  “Tell me what you know about Saturday night.”

  “Daniel told me he and the other guys were going up to the cabin. I spent the evening out with Bonnie. I came home alone, the house was empty, and I went to bed. I slept until morning.”

  It was the truth. Annamarie felt the lie was a lie of omission, leaving out only the part about Daniel’s clothing, and how he burned them. Not mentioning Daniel’s insane story about spirits killing Ben wasn’t a lie either. It was saving her husband from prison or an insane asylum. She knew he hadn’t killed Ben, but if the town heard the story, he would be committed so fast not even George could save him. That responsibility was one she refused to accept.

  The sheriff must have believed her or thought he wasn’t going to learn anything further from her because he told her she could leave.

  She thanked the sheriff, stood and tried not to run while she left the station.

  Greta was busy typing, and Steve was doing paperwork when she left. They appeared busier than usual. Annamarie had an uneasy feeling about the entire visit. If she had known the sheriff had more in store for her than this visit to his office, she wouldn’t have been simply uneasy, but filled with fright.

  Mr. Townsend’s and Dr. Webster’s unexpected arrivals may have thrown the sheriff’s plan off, but in no way lessened his determination to get it back on track.

  ***

  Once Annamarie left, Sheriff Richardson called Steve into his office. “Sit down Steve. We need to discuss the coroner’s report.”

  “Sure, but what’s there to discuss?”

  “Some of this doesn’t make sense and I need your input.”

  The sheriff picked up several pieces of paper, and began to explain the body definitely was Ben’s. He had broken two front teeth playing baseball in sixth grade, and the dental records matched those the coroner had.

  Steve remembered the game. He had thrown the ball that hit Ben squarely in the mouth. He would have been grounded for the summer if Mr. Hanson hadn’t brought Ben over after dinner, simply saying, “Boys will be boys,” and that was the end of it. Now, his friend was dead. It was official.

  Sheriff Richardson had to say his name twice to get Steve’s attention back from that summer ball game of years ago.

  “Sorry. What else is there?”

  “Th
e coroner ruled Ben’s death as inconclusive, since he couldn’t find a specific cause of death. The body had been moved from the ground next to the porch, and into the cabin where it was set on fire. The second fire was started on the porch, and a third fire outside where the coroner believed Ben’s body originally lay,” Sheriff Richardson said with a perplexed look.

  “Three separate fires make it intentional without a doubt, but why?”

  “He believes the second and third fires were meant to cover up blood evidence. There was extremely little proof there had been much blood outside or inside. The fire had done its work. There were no broken bones or nicks on any of the exposed bones caused by the fire. X-rays also showed the skeleton was intact, without even the slightest injury. The coroner wrote Ben didn’t die of smoke inhalation, and he thought strangulation, shooting, and stabbing could be ruled out since he couldn’t find any injuries. This all added up to his conclusion of ‘inconclusive.'”

  The sheriff dropped the papers on the desk. “We know as much now as we did before.”

  The coroner had drawn an asterisk behind the word “inconclusive” and added a handwritten note at the bottom of the page.

  It stated, “It’s my opinion Benjamin Hanson died under mysterious circumstances, mainly because his body was set afire to destroy evidence that might be uncovered. Since Mr. Hanson’s body didn’t set itself afire, I believe foul play was involved. I’m unable to provide further proof and rule the cause of death “inconclusive.” Personally, I lean heavily toward either an accident cover up or murder.”

  Signed: “R.T. Webster, M.D. 7/31/67.”

  Steve and the sheriff were back to square one. In their minds, Daniel stood right in the middle of square one.

  ***

  Back at work, Annamarie checked for messages, fought the warped drawer in the old metal desk to put her purse away and glanced to see if anyone was waiting. There were two large sliding windows that opened into the vestibule, used for accepting applications or ask people to wait, if they had an appointment with Mr. Hanson. Annamarie could see Mr. Hanson in the front office. It was just past ten. She was relieved to be back at work.