Gypsy Spirits

by Marianne Spitzer

  ***

  When the phone rang in the sheriff’s office, Greta answered in her pleasant voice, “Sheriff’s office.” She listened for a moment and said, “Please hold, I’ll connect you.”

  The intercom buzzer sounded in the sheriff’s office.

  “What is it, Greta?”

  “Dr. Webster’s on line one.”

  “Thanks put him through. Good morning Dr. Webster, what can I do for you?” asked the sheriff tapping his pencil on the desk.

  “I have a cause of death in your nasty little double murder.”

  “Murder?”

  “Unfortunately yes, they killed each other. Makes it murder officially. However, there are some odd facts.”

  “I was afraid of that, what facts?”

  “Neither man could have been killed by the small knives we found at the scene. My assistant was right. If I didn’t know better, I would say they were killed by some type of long, thick-bladed sword. One long enough to stab a man from his abdomen through to his backbone.”

  The sheriff began pacing around his office. “What are you talking about? There were no other weapons. We only found the knives.”

  “I can only tell you what the postmortem revealed, but there’s more.”

  The sheriff felt a headache coming on. Dr. Webster always had odd theories that too often proved true.

  “I believe there was also a fourth weapon used. It was a thin, but extremely sharp blade resembling a sickle.”

  “Sickle and a sword, please, doctor you surely must be mistaken.” Sheriff Richardson dropped into his chair trying to comprehend what he was hearing.

  “I wish to heaven I was, but there were several arc-shaped wounds on each man and a single deep stab in their abdomen, which could only have been made by a sword-like weapon. That’s why both men bled out before I arrived. It also accounts for the fact each lost fingers. Those were defense wounds, I believe.”

  “You always have a conclusion that makes some sense, what about this time?”

  “Murder by unknown weaponry, I believe you’ll have to add ‘by persons unknown.’”

  “Are you sure they didn’t kill each other?”

  “Unless you can provide additional weapons, I have to say no. Also, there is absolutely no proof anyone else was in that office. My assistant took pictures of every square inch and we couldn’t see one fingerprint or footprint in the blood or on any surface. Both bodies must have fallen to the floor early in the fight because we didn’t find any of their fingerprints either.”

  “That doesn’t seem possible.”

  “I agree, but facts don’t lie. My assistant still believes a spirit was involved considering it occurred in Timmus Woods. His conclusion is as plausible as any I can arrive at.”

  “That doesn’t help much.”

  “Sorry, if I have any other ideas, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, doctor, I appreciate the call. You can mail me a report. Have a good day.”

  Sheriff Richardson sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He needed aspirin but was too frustrated to move.

  ***

  Annamarie had a few chores to do around the house and scolded herself for making such a mess the night before.

  Dressing for the day, she decided to wear a work outfit. It would make her appear presentable and maybe it might make the sheriff think everything was all right.

  Much to her dismay, even her blue plaid skirt and a crisp white blouse didn’t make her feel any better. She worried the sheriff would see right through her.

  Tidying things up helped and it was lunch time before she knew it. She made a quick peanut butter sandwich. Whenever she was nervous, peanut butter would do the trick especially if she could find some chocolate to eat, too. Today neither helped.

  At twelve-thirty, she knew Daniel wasn’t bringing her car back in time, and she was going to need a ride.

  “Damn, everyone is either at school or work. I can’t call mom. Dad will hunt Daniel down then tar and feather him. I’m going to strangle him for taking off with my car,” she mumbled.

  Dressed in a skirt, she certainly couldn’t take his motorcycle nor did she want to explain why she was using it.

  She was pacing around the house talking aloud.

  “If I’m late, I’ll be in trouble. I can’t believe you did this to me again.”

  Her last hope was George, and she dreaded that call. When she heard his voice, she almost hung up, but she needed a ride. She explained things, and he said he’d be there in a few minutes. He was fuming about the sheriff and Daniel when he arrived, and continued his angry monologue the entire drive to the sheriff’s office.

  Annamarie was happy when the ride was over, but if she had known what awaited her, she would have preferred the car ride. George told her to call him when she needed a ride home. She thanked him and told him for a second time she didn’t need him to call Mr. Townsend. She wished she had reconsidered before she walked into the sheriff’s office.

  Chapter Ten: Trouble

  Entering the sheriff’s station, Annamarie greeted Greta with a smile. She told Annamarie to sit and wait, the sheriff would be right out. She didn’t have to wait long.

  The sheriff walked out, smiling at her. “Hello, Annamarie.”

  Smiling back, she said, “Hi.” It would be the last time she’d ever trust one of Sheriff Richardson’s smiles.

  He led her into his office, gesturing for her to sit down. His attitude had definitely changed. He settled comfortably in his leather chair while she sat in an old, cracked plastic chair.

  Leaning forward, he looked directly into her eyes and asked, “Why didn’t Daniel come with you?”

  Her mind raced. She couldn’t think of anything except the truth. After all, the truth couldn’t possibly get her into trouble. Or could it?

  “I don’t know where Daniel is.”

  She answered all his questions about why Daniel left and if he was alone. The only answer she could give was, “I don’t know.”

  Sheriff Richardson kept insisting Daniel must be with Garret, and Annamarie would be the one person who would know.

  Trying her best to convince him that she had no idea where he might be, it was beginning to feel as if Annamarie was caught up in one of the police shows her dad liked to watch. Something was wrong with this interview. Everything had changed, from the sheriff’s attitude to his questions.

  “Do you know what Garret and Bulk do when they go to Oaklin?”

  “I’m not close to either of them, how would I know when and if they go to Oaklin, much less what they do?”

  No matter what answer she gave, she saw doubt on the sheriff’s face. He began questioning her again. He asked all the same questions, but he mixed up the order trying to confuse her. It wasn’t doing either one of them any good because her answers were the same. Anxiety and anger churning within her, she forced herself to hold back from telling the sheriff what she thought of his entire line of questioning. He was making her feel like a criminal, and definitely headed in the wrong direction. She finally had enough.

  “I’m insulted,” she said. “I’m not and never have been a criminal, and I would appreciate it if you stopped treating me like one.”

  It was the only thing Annamarie could think of that might not get her in more trouble. He abruptly changed and questioned her again about Saturday night, and she still had the same answers.

  “I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened,” shifting in her chair unable to find a comfortable spot. When the cracked plastic pinched her leg, she had enough and stood up quickly.

  “Sit down, Annamarie,” the sheriff barked.

  She snapped, “Not in that broken chair. After yesterday, I’ve been through enough. I’ve tried to help you, but you aren’t listening.”

  “I don’t believe you Annamarie, and I’m going to hold you for forty-eight hours as a material witness.”

  “What?” she practically screamed. “You’re going to put me in a jail ce
ll for two days because I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “That’s about right because while you may or may not know anything, Daniel and Garret do. With you here, Daniel will come in and talk to me.”

  Annamarie began to cry, even though she tried hard to stop, saying through her tears, “You can’t hold me. Ben’s funeral is tomorrow. I have to go.”

  “I can hold you and I will.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair appearing not to care about her plight.

  “I want my phone call.” She needed Mr. Townsend there now.

  “You can be held for forty-eight hours without a phone call. However, since your dad and I are close friends, I’ll call him so your parents won’t worry.”

  “I have to let Daniel’s family know. They might find him. They’ll be terribly upset.”

  The sheriff snapped, “I don’t care what the Logans think.”

  He was doing this his way.

  They both knew Daniel would find out she was in jail. She wasn’t going to share the rest of the information she had. She no longer trusted the former friendly law officer.

  ***

  The sheriff escorted Annamarie back to the cell and opened the door. She had never been so scared in her life. She could see Greta standing at the end of the hall looking stricken. Neither she nor Annamarie could believe what was happening.

  The sheriff said, “I don’t think you’ll run.” He slid the door closed, but left it unlocked.

  It didn’t matter. She was in a jail cell, Annamarie Logan of all people. She decided if Daniel wasn’t dead, she might kill him herself.

  She looked around the small cell. Even though she wasn’t claustrophobic, she felt the space closing in on her. She knew the door wasn’t locked, but that didn’t matter. She was in a jail cell and forty-eight hours seemed like an eternity.

  Checking out her surroundings only made her feel worse. The walls were painted the same ugly green adorning all the walls in the station. She wondered what they had looked like with fresh paint. She couldn’t believe she was studying the paint. Ten minutes in a cell and she was losing her mind. She wanted to scream, but quickly decided against it. It would only prove she was as crazy as people thought Daniel was. Annamarie and Daniel would be the “crazy couple” of Timmus Woods. What a legacy that would be.

  She sat on the lone bench and watched an odd-looking bug crawl across the painted black cement floor. She wanted to go home, and took out all her frustrations when she stomped the bug into its afterlife. She didn’t want to think of what the bathroom looked like. She couldn’t stay here. In forty-eight hours, her nerves would be completely shattered.

  The cell door wasn’t locked. Maybe she could sneak out through the back door. The door probably had an alarm. She wouldn’t get far. She felt trapped again.

  What if she became hysterical? They’d take her to the hospital. No, they wouldn’t. Knowing the sheriff, he’d call Dr. Norse. She’d get a shot of something and still be there but in some odd, altered state of reality. She decided awake was better. She also decided she was spending too much time thinking about herself and her problems.

  Trying to work off her tension, she began to quickly walk in a circle. A brisk walk always helped her clear her mind. It wasn’t helping much in the confined space.

  Daniel could be hurt or dead and it was time to stop worrying about her problem. She let her anger grow because it overshadowed her fear, and she was going to be ready for whatever came next.

  “Sheriff,” Greta said, “a call just came in about Garret Frant’s Bronco. It was found on its side off Tangledbranch Road, about a half mile east of the saloon. The caller said it’s damaged, but empty.”

  Annamarie overheard Greta’s conversation. Her blood ran cold at the thought something happened to Garret and Daniel might be involved. She didn’t know whether or not Daniel was with Garret. She had no idea where he was. She realized there was more she didn’t know than she did know. She had to get out of the cell.

  Annamarie sat back down on the hard jail cell bench and felt terrible for thinking about killing Daniel. She’d never do that for any reason. Her fear Daniel might be dead was taking over her thoughts. What her next move would be perplexed her even more. She heard George’s voice booming from the waiting area.

  He was yelling at Sheriff Richardson to let Annamarie out of the cell. She didn’t know what the sheriff was saying, but from George’s end of the conversation, she could tell he wasn’t listening to George.

  “Forty-eight hours? Are you mad? You can’t do that to an innocent child.”

  Straining to hear more of the conversation, she heard a familiar voice say her name.

  “Annamarie.” It was her dad.

  She jumped up and ran to the bars separating them. Seeing the sadness in his eyes, she explained she hadn’t done anything to warrant being held in a cell.

  “I think the sheriff hopes my being stuck here will induce Daniel to tell him what he wants to know. I’m not sure Daniel cares enough to help me.”

  Then she did something she had rarely done her entire life. She lied to her dad.

  “Dad, I have no idea what happened at the cabin.”

  It wasn’t the truth, but it was something she had to do.

  “Daniel was home when I woke up on Sunday morning.” At least that was true. “I know he’d never hurt Ben.”

  “I agree Daniel would never hurt Ben intentionally, but accidents happen. My mind is wide open when it comes to what he’s capable of doing.”

  “He’d never do anything to Ben. I know it.”

  Seeing Annamarie sitting in a jail cell didn’t help his demeanor, and he began to tell her what this was doing to her mom. His lecture was interrupted by George’s voice again.

  He bellowed, “What do you mean you’re leaving, and Annamarie is staying here? I don’t care whose car was in an accident. You get my daughter-in-law out of that cell now, or I’ll have your job.”

  The sheriff must have left because it became extremely quiet in the outer offices.

  George walked down the hall to Annamarie’s cell. He said, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do to get you released. The sheriff is sure Daniel will come to the station and talk since you’re being held.

  Annamarie realized it was time she told her dad and George at least part of the story. She explained about the strange phone call last night and how Daniel had left in her car.

  “Your car’s in the lot at the agency, and Daniel’s Jeep is gone,” said George.

  Annamarie was more confused than ever. “Please find him,” she begged George, “or I’ll be here for forty-eight hours.” She turned trying not to let them see how frightened she was.

  George didn’t think the sheriff would keep her if Daniel showed up by tonight. It was only a ploy, he explained. Hoping he was right, she knew she might be in more trouble than she’d ever thought possible. Worse, she was sure Daniel was in even more.

  ***

  The sheriff had the same thoughts while he drove toward Tangledbranch Road. He knew legally he could keep Annamarie in jail. He also knew if Daniel didn’t show up by nightfall, he wasn’t coming. The sheriff didn’t have the heart to let Annamarie spend the night in a cell. He hoped Daniel would come in and if not, once he came home, Annamarie’s few hours in jail would scare him enough to tell the truth.

  ***

  Annamarie’s dad asked Steve for a chair because he wasn’t going to leave her alone all night. Steve told him the cell wasn’t locked and he was welcome to sit with Annamarie. She was happy when her dad pushed the door open, walked in and sat down next to her. She cuddled up to him, her head on his shoulder.

  “Dad, I’m afraid the sheriff will come up with another idea and arrest me. If he thinks I’m hiding Daniel, or went up to the cabin with the guys Saturday night, he will have grounds to arrest me for any number of reasons.”

  Her dad put his arm around her. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s only trying to get to the truth, using desperat
e measures to achieve his goal. I’ve known him for years, he’s a fair man.”

  Annamarie’s dad tried to lift her spirits. “If you want a reason to worry, imagine what your mom would say if she saw the two of us sitting here like hardened criminals.”

  For some reason, his statement tickled her funny bone, and Annamarie began to laugh. He quickly joined her, and for a moment she relaxed. Then looking up, she saw her mom and Maureen standing outside the cell.

  “What in the world is so funny you can laugh in this situation?” Maureen was gripping the cell bars so hard her knuckles were turning white.

  She looked at her dad, and they both laughed even harder.

  “Have the two of you lost your minds?” Paula crossed her arms, frowning disapprovingly. “My husband and daughter in a jail cell and you think it’s funny?”

  Steve brought two chairs for Paula and Maureen, and the jail cell began to resemble a weird family reunion. Annamarie was sure George would join them when he was off the phone with Mr. Townsend. Greta popped her head in to see if they needed coffee, or if she should call Ray’s for some burgers, but they told her they were fine.

  ***

  At the same time Annamarie and her dad were having their laugh, the sheriff pulled up to the accident scene where Garret’s Bronco lay on its side. The sheriff could tell from the tire tracks whoever was driving had lost control, drove off the road into the field, and flipped the Bronco. He did his best to examine the interior of the car, and didn’t see any blood.

  Annamarie wished she had known that. It would have given her some relief. The sheriff only felt more confused. Using his car radio, he told Greta to have the Bronco towed back into town. He wanted it in the lot behind the station.

  Something was wrong with the accident. It wasn’t like Garret to leave his vehicle. The tow truck arrived about thirty minutes later. The Bronco was righted and towed to the sheriff’s lot. The sheriff followed to be sure it arrived safely.