Meadowlark

by Sheila Simonson

  Light dawned. "The interns?"

  Jay nodded. "McDonald called him. Dale is interrogating the interns. The Dean was just wondering if maybe I couldn't stop that. I pointed out that we have a murder, and the kids are material witnesses."

  "Suspects." I explained about Jason and Bill and the ice house.

  "So that's what he was talking about. Interesting."

  "It probably doesn't mean anything. All the interns were impatient to go home Saturday. I doubt that Jason and Bill did more than stick their heads in the door of the ice house. They couldn't have seen the body from the doorway."

  "No."

  "Marianne said they should have reported that the ice machine was switched on."

  "That's unusual?"

  I explained Marianne's reaction.

  "Does Dale know?"

  "I expect so. He interrogated her at some length before you got there."

  Jay sighed. "So there are suspicious circumstances. Okay, I'd better see if it's all right to go out to the farm again."

  "We have to retrieve my car anyway, and I need to talk to Bianca about the workshop."

  He picked up the phone. Bianca answered. He told her she could talk to me later and asked if Dale was still at the farm. There was a long pause. Finally I heard a squawk at the other end.

  Jay said, "Yeah, I know, buddy. The interns are students at the college, though." More squawks. "I couldn't agree more. All the same, if I come out I can probably get the Dean off your back." A less agitated squawk. "Okay. Lark's coming, too. Her car's still there." Resigned squawk. Jay handed me the phone. "He's putting Bianca back on."

  I set my cup on the counter. Bianca was saying something intense about Gestapo tactics. "Dale has to interrogate the witnesses, Bianca." I cleared my throat. "Listen, about the workshop--"

  "I won't cancel it. Those Vietnamese women killed Hugo. It's nothing to do with my staff."

  A good liberal viewpoint. Cherchez l'etranger. I said, "Well, we can talk it over. There are bound to be changes."

  "You're coming out?" She sounded less hostile.

  "To get my car."

  "Come in the mudroom door when you get here."

  "Okay."

  "I have to go. Mary Sadat's having hysterics." She hung up.

  Jay said, "Dale wants you to bring the shoes you were wearing in the ice house."

  That made sense. The evidence crew would need to eliminate my footprints and Marianne's from the general scuffle.

  Jay drove slightly over the speed limit. He must have been tense. It had stopped raining, but the overcast looked sullen, and it was beginning to get dark. Four-thirty. Dale had had a lot of time to interview the people at the farm.

  As we came into sight of Coho Island and the narrow southern end of Shoalwater Bay, Jay said, "You're going to have nightmares."

  I said I already had.

  He glanced at me. "Role reversal?"

  Jay's nightmares were a recurrent feature of our marriage. I gave him a constrained smile. "I'll lean on you."

  "Do that." He was going at least sixty-five. The sheriff's car no longer blocked the entrance to Meadowlark Farm. We jounced over the cattle guard and drove around behind the house. The extra cop car was there, parked between Dale's and an upscale civilian sedan. Next to the sedan, my old Toyota looked like a junker, but there were two other rattletraps and the high-wheel pickup I knew belonged to Jason. The interns hadn't gone yet. I left my boots, the ones I had worn for the search, in Jay's car.

  I led Jay straight through the mudroom into the kitchen. No way was I going to remove my shoes. Mike Wallace was sitting at the butcher block table eating something. As we entered, he looked up, eyes wide.

  Jay greeted him, and Mike told us the others were in the living room. This was not, strictly speaking, accurate. The interns weren't there. Neither was Dale.

  Bianca and Del and Marianne were sitting by the fireplace with a strange man who wore jeans with an expensive pullover. The sheriff had apparently come and gone. Bianca introduced her lawyer, Paul Mayer.

  As we were shaking hands, Keith McDonald came in from the direction of the master suite looking frazzled.

  He nodded at us and turned to Bianca. "Angie says Mary's asleep. I'm sending Carol and the Carlsens home." I heard slamming car doors and revving engines from the direction of the car barn. Corroboration.

  Jay said, "Did Nelson okay that?"

  McDonald's mouth set. "Yeah, if it's your business."

  "They're students, right?"

  McDonald gave a curt nod.

  "Then they're my business. According to the Dean." Jay kept his tone cool and conciliating.

  McDonald didn't like that. He bit his lip.

  "You did call him," Jay said with elaborate patience.

  "Yes. I told him they needed a lawyer."

  "He called the attorney general. They decided I'm cheaper than a lawyer."

  "All right," McDonald said with bad grace.

  Mayer licked his chops. Reflexively, I suspect. There was a definite potential for parental lawsuits, but he would have had a large conflict of interest if he took one on.

  The college carried no liability insurance as a matter of state policy. Whenever it got itself into legal muck, it leaned on the attorney general's office. According to Jay, the advice was sometimes good and sometimes not.

  Mayer said, "Then you have a watching brief, Mr. Dodge?"

  "I don't have a brief at all," Jay replied. "I'm not a lawyer."

  "I don't understand--"

  Bianca made an impatient noise. "The Dean's covering his ass. Jay will make sure the students aren't railroaded."

  I saw Jay's moustache twitch in appreciation.

  She added, "It's okay, Paul. You can go home now. I'll call you when I need more advice."

  The lawyer took ceremonial leave. Bianca escorted him from the room. We all looked at each other. Del raised his whiskey glass and sipped. Keith offered Jay and me drinks, which we declined. Jay took up a station near the fireplace. I sat.

  When Bianca returned, I said brightly, "So, what do we do about this workshop?"

  "Cancel it," McDonald said. He didn't hesitate but he avoided Bianca's eyes.

  Del took a belt of his favorite anesthetic. "Aw, Keith, no reason to throw all of Bianca's work out the window. Nelson will pull in that gook woman, whassername?"

  "Mei Phuoc," Marianne said.

  Del gave a small drunken giggle. "May Fuck. Thas the one. Old Hugo was chopped with a machete. S'obvious." He hiccupped. "Whodunnit, I mean."

  "How do you know Hugo was killed with a machete?" I asked.

  Bianca made an impatient gesture. "The sheriff told us." She turned to Del and said through her teeth, "Thank you so much."

  "No sweat."

  Jay smoothed his moustache. "Mrs. Phuoc is a leader in that community. She's not the type to use casual violence."

  Bianca frowned. "How do you know Mei?"

  "There were rumors of Asian gangs from Portland intimidating local people last winter. The sheriff asked me to sit on a task force."

  "Oh. And you interviewed Mei?"

  "Mrs. Phuoc was on the committee," Jay said drily. He would see that the Vietnamese women weren't railroaded either. I cheered up a little.

  Del snorted. "She's a peasant. Illiterate."

  Jay ignored him. "She's foreman of your work crew, isn't she, Bianca?"

  She nodded. "Hugo and Mei got along. She speaks a little English, and he spoke a little Vietnamese. God, how am I going to work with those people? I always let Hugo deal with them." She plunked down on one of the armchairs, muttering something about broccoli.

  Del smirked. "I'll handle 'em." Har, har.

  Bianca rounded on him. "No, you will not. You will not go near my harvest crew. Do you understand me, or are you too drunk to hear?"

  Del blinked.

  "Go feel up a sheep," she snarled.

  Del flushed. "Now lissen--"

  "No, you listen. I'm tired of y
our sexual innuendoes. One more crack and you're out of here. One more--"

  "Now, Bee--"

  She turned on Keith. "'Now, Bee.' You, too, Humbert Humbert. So you sent little Carol home, did you? I'm surprised you didn't drive her yourself."

  A delicate silence ensued. Jay looked at his shoes. I admired the painting over the mantle. It depicted Kayport harbor in slashing abstraction. Del burped.

  Angie Martini stalked into the silence. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but she managed to look like a leopard defending its cub. I remembered that Mary Sadat was her protegé.

  "Where is that damned deputy?"

  Bianca sniffed. "I put him in the conference room. He and the woman the sheriff brought out are interviewing Bill."

  Jay said, "Lisa Colman?"

  Bianca nodded.

  That made sense. Lisa Colman was a detective lieutenant. Dale's supervisor. She would coordinate the investigation. Since Bianca's prominence made the process ticklish, Lisa would probably keep a closer eye on Dale than in an ordinary case. Still, the department was understaffed. Dale would have a lot of autonomy.

  Angie was muttering rude words.

  I decided it was time for a distraction. "About the workshop, Bianca."

  Bianca glowered. "I'm not going to cancel it."

  "Isn't that a little disrespectful? After all, Hugo was an old friend."

  "Hugo would want me to go on with it. He Believed in Ecology." She was back to speaking in capitals. She also dabbed at her eyes, which was unfair.

  I sighed. "Then consider the practicalities. You'll have half a dozen experienced journalists interviewing Carol Bascombe."

  Bianca blinked. Angie snorted. Keith cleared his throat as if he had meant to speak but thought better of it.

  "And Del," I added, bringing up the heavy guns.

  I could see that I had given Bianca pause.

  Del stared into his glass and finished off the contents. It was very quiet. I didn't look at Jay.

  Marianne said, "I don't want them poking around in my kitchen."

  Bianca glanced from me to Marianne to Del, like a wild creature at bay.

  I almost had her. Unfortunately, the detectives had finished with Bill.

  The kid was wearing sneakers so we didn't hear him coming. He popped out into the living room from the tiled hallway and stopped short, blushing, when he caught sight of all those adults staring at him.

  "You must be Bill Johnson." Jay introduced himself and mentioned the Dean. "Are you okay?"

  Bill nodded, blushes fading. "They just asked me a bunch of questions about the ice house. I didn't see Mr. Groth, honest. The lady said I could have a lawyer, but that costs a lot of money, so I said no. They told me I could go home."

  "Have they talked to Jason Thirkell?"

  "Yeah. The guy, Nelson, talked to him first thing. Now him and the lady are at it again."

  "Okay. Well, don't worry, Bill. The killing is probably nothing to do with you."

  "I told them that," Bill muttered. "Uh, guess I'll go. Where's Mike?"

  "In the kitchen," Marianne said. "If you want a sandwich..."

  Bill brightened. "Yeah. I'm real hungry."

  Marianne went with him. I supposed she was one of those women who look on food as the universal panacea. In Bill's case, she was probably right. Maybe in Mike's, too.

  Bill's entrance had given Bianca time to regroup.

  "I'll hold a news conference," she announced.

  All of us stared at her.

  The brown eyes gleamed. "When the workshop participants get here Sunday, I'll hold a formal news conference, give them the facts and maybe some...some color. Then I'll lay down guidelines. No interviews with the staff, no photos, no intrusions."

  I thought that was almost heroically naÏve. It was so naÏve I could think of no way to say so without gross rudeness.

  "Besides," she added, "Nelson's bound to solve the case by then. He has a whole week."

  Jay cleared his throat.

  Keith McDonald said, "You're out of your mind." He sounded weary.

  "No, no, really, Keith. They want a story, I'll give them a story. Then we can go on with the workshop. I can't cancel. Not with Eric Spielman and Francis Hrubek coming." She was wheedling. Keith shook his head.

  Marianne reentered on noiseless feet. For a large woman she moved quietly.

  Bianca leaned forward, hugging her knees. "It'll work, Keith. You'll see." She exuded conviction.

  I said, "What if Dale arrests you?"

  Bianca stared. Keith tugged at his beard.

  Jay was frowning at me, the spousal 'pipe down' signal.

  "But he won't do that," Bianca said with absolute confidence. "I loved Hugo. I didn't have any reason to kill him. We all loved Hugo."

  Dead silence.

  Angie said, "Uh, Bianca, listen. Hugo was a great gardener. I'm sure we all respected him. But--"

  "Where's Bill?" Jason Thirkell, like his sidekick, was wearing sneakers. He strolled into the room as if he owned it. "Where's Bill? I told him to wait for me." Jason was probably not sneering. His mouth just tilted that way.

  "He's in the kitchen," Marianne said.

  Jason headed for the kitchen. Jay and I exchanged glances, and Jay followed him.

  "I don't like that young man," Bianca muttered.

  "Huh? Whazzat? Jason's a good kid!" Del lapsed into stupor. I wondered if he were really drunk or faking it. He was a little too obnoxious. I have a hard time calculating the effects of hard liquor. One glass gives me a buzz.

  A clacking on the tiles and low voices resolved into Dale and Lisa Colman, Lisa in high-heeled pumps. She was a short, square woman, about fifty, who had come into the department via dispatch and stayed on doing scutwork until affirmative action caught up with her. Jay thought she was sharp but a bit unimaginative. She shook hands briskly all the way around and took her leave, turning to Dale at the last moment.

  "My office. Seven. Get something to eat first."

  He nodded.

  Marianne led her out through the kitchen. I heard her greet Jay as the door swung shut.

  Dale looked at me. "Got the shoes?"

  "In Jay's car."

  "Don't forget to give them to me before you leave." He sounded as if my departure were imminent. That was okay with me.

  Bianca said, "We want to know where we stand, deputy."

  Dale said politely, "I appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Fiedler. When I get the results of the autopsy I'll know a lot more."

  Keith pulled a chair. "Sit down, Nelson. Would you like a drink?"

  "Coffee, if you've got it." Dale didn't sit.

  Keith went off to the kitchen. Del was watching the deputy through half-lidded eyes.

  Bianca leaned forward. "When is it scheduled?"

  "The autopsy? Tomorrow morning. We're rushing it. The M.E. had three others slated, but he'll do this one first."

  "But what about the Vietnamese?"

  "Lt. Colman and I are going to see Mrs. Phuoc tonight. The lieutenant found a translator."

  Bianca leaned back, expelling a long breath. "Good. That's good. It was probably some...some old quarrel we don't know about."

  Dale raised an eyebrow. "And Mrs. Phuoc settled it with an axe?"

  Bianca flushed a little. Her chin lifted. "Mei is a fine woman. I'm not accusing her. But she has a big crew, and all of those women interacted with Hugo. And they do use the machetes. They like the machetes."

  Jay and Marianne reentered, followed closely by Keith with a coffee mug. We heard the distant slamming of a car door and a muted roar as Jason's high-wheeler pulled away.

  Jay and Dale exchanged greetings. Dale gulped hot coffee. I made another attempt to persuade Bianca to cancel the conference, but she liked her own plan too well to listen. It was time to go. Past time.

  I started making noises of disengagement and Jay, bless him, followed my lead. He asked Angie about Mary Sadat. Rather to my surprise, Angie didn't use the opportunity to attac
k Dale. She just said that Mary had been very upset to discover she was the last of the group to see Hugo alive. Angie had given her a mild tranquilizer. That may have been pharmaceutically incorrect but it was sensible. Dale said nothing.

  He did follow us out, however, ostensibly to get my boots. Bianca came as far as the mudroom. As we said goodbye she looked me straight in the eye. "Don't desert me, Lark. I need you."

  "I'll be here for the workshop," I heard myself saying, "but I still think you should cancel it."

  She nodded, solemn. "I respect your opinion."

  Right. I gave myself a swift mental kick.

  Jay and Dale had gone on out to the cars and were already deep in police technicalities when I got there. The door to the mudroom closed. I could see Bianca watching us from the porch.

  I gave a little wave. She waved back and disappeared.

  "And there's not enough blood," Dale was saying.

  My ears pricked. "How much do you need?"

  He gave me a wry smile. "Goddamn, Lark, don't you start pumping me. I've had enough of that from Ms. Fiedler McDonald."

  "I'll be good. Want my boots?"

  He took them. I watched the two men in my rearview mirror as I left. They were still deep in conversation.

  As I drove homeward, I tried to think up ways to persuade Bianca to abandon the workshop. I also thought about Hugo. And I thought about Hugo and Bianca. Her reaction to his death was so muddled I didn't know how much of it to trust. "He would have wanted us to go on with it." Anytime somebody performs that kind of ventriloquism for the dead I get very uneasy. If I were murdered I'd want everyone to drop everything.

  And why had Bianca insisted that everybody loved Hugo when she knew it wasn't the truth? Hugo had been a hard man to know, and it was clear that Del and Angie, to name two, had found him maddening. To say Bianca was in denial was simply to label a response that in this case was inexplicable. I was beginning to think Bianca was at least as strange as Hugo, that I didn't understand her at all.

  The honk of an indignant motorist pulled me back on my own side of the road, and I gave up analyzing Bianca. Psychopathology is not my strong suit.