by Rachel Lee
Stu straightened. “Glad to do it.” Then he eyed Kerri. “Time to get on with your walk?”
She stood and surprised him by blushing faintly. “I didn’t go out of bounds. You should know that. I’m better aware of the bounds than most people.”
“I’m sure, but appearances matter. I’d offer to drive you home but I need to go straight to the office. Edith would probably be delighted to be done with this.”
“Of course.”
“Like I’ll ever be done with this,” Edith said sharply. “There are times I wish I had a much poorer memory.”
* * *
Kerri watched Stu guide Edith and her huge dog to his car, then sighed and rose, the ever-faithful Snowy moving with her. She felt very sorry for Edith Jasper. She’d rarely met someone who’d discovered a violent crime scene who hadn’t been disturbed for a good long time. Some images simply couldn’t be removed from the brain. She just hoped Edith hadn’t seen very much detail. Maybe the darkness before dawn had protected her from the worst.
She decided it was time to head back to her place. She did indeed have a class to teach that afternoon, like it or not. She was willing to bet that most of today’s class discussion would center around this morning’s crime and the rape from last Friday night. It seemed impossible that the students would want to discuss much else.
She guessed she would have to wing it, then. She certainly couldn’t use her planned discussion about how sentencing guidelines worked. It would be dry, unfortunately, much too dry for today. Although she had thought the subject would arouse at least some argument. Few were happy with the guidelines when they learned how they worked, and she’d expected plenty of people on both sides of the issue.
For example, should a man who stole a pack of cigarettes and thus became guilty for his third arrest and conviction have to face life in prison under the Three Strikes laws? That ramped up a lot people.
Habitual criminal, many would argue. But it was just a pack of cigarettes, others would say. Life for that?
Well, not today. She supposed she had better get ready for the difference between rape and consensual sex, and it didn’t just involve beating the victim bloody.
* * *
At the station, Gage was waiting for them, directing them into a conference room where they’d have privacy. Stu eyed the elderly woman as her dog laid down beside her feet. “Want me to run down the street and get you some more tea? You look cold.”
“That would be wonderful,” Edith admitted. “And Maude knows just how I like it.”
“Done. Gage?”
“Strong and black. If Velma complains, I’m ready to tell her to learn how to make coffee.”
“Good luck with that. I hear she’s been making it this way for a whole lotta years.”
“Since the dinosaurs,” Gage answered. He lowered himself carefully into a chair across from Edith and pulled out a micro recorder. “You don’t mind?”
“Why should I? I just wish I had more to tell you.”
“We’ll start when Stu gets back, but in the meantime, the way it happens is this. You talk for the tape. Then I get it transcribed into the computer and print it out, so if we need you to sign it, you actually can.”
Edith suddenly looked wry. “Imagine that.”
Stu couldn’t help smiling as he hurried out the door, then down to Maude’s. She had the coffee ready in two shakes but the tea took a bit longer. “How’s Edith doing?”
“Pretty well under the circumstances. I think she’s getting past the shock.”
Maude nodded. “Good. Imagine her finding that.”
So, that much news had already made the rounds, Stu realized. “You hear anything else about it?”
“Just that. If anybody knows who she is, they ain’t talking.”
“Just as well. She probably would like privacy, at least for a while.”
“Well, you just might mention to her that I can’t deliver dinners unless I know where to send them.”
He walked out with three big cups in a tray and wondered why he had never heard that Maude did that. Or maybe she had just started. Or maybe she didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Back at the office, he carried the hot beverages into the conference room and handed them out. Gage was looking awfully tired, Stu suddenly noticed. Like a man who hadn’t been sleeping well, possibly since the first rape. Gage really cared about the people of this county, like the previous sheriff, whom Stu had only been privileged to meet once. Nate Tate was still a legend in these parts, though.
Edith sipped her tea. “Maude knows exactly how to make it,” she remarked again. “We have to talk about this?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gage answered. Leaning forward he started the recorder, gave his name and Stu’s name, then had Edith identify herself.
“What can you tell us about this morning and how you found the victim?”
“You ought to talk to Bailey, my dog,” she said. “I’d never have seen her but for him. But Bailey started to get a wild hair almost the instant we entered the park. He kept tugging on me, which he never does, and pulled me down the path. Then he wanted to go into that little grove of trees and when I tried to stop him he nearly pulled my arm out of joint. No stopping him. I had to follow, although frankly, at my age, I worry about falling. Anyway, I saw what I thought was a pile of rags. Then I realized it wasn’t. And I called you. That’s it.”
Stu noted that her hand had begun to tremble as she was talking. Afraid some liquid might slosh out through the drinking slot, he reached out and took it from her, placing it on the table. “Just till the tremor passes,” he said. “I’m not surprised you’re shaking.”
She nodded. “I didn’t notice. Thank you.”
The rape victim wasn’t the only victim in this crime, Stu thought. The unfortunate who discovered the crime was every bit as much a victim. The next victims would be family and friends as they were told or heard about it. But Edith had gotten the worst of it.
“Can you remember anything else at all?” Stu asked. “I know you were shocked, but maybe if you close your eyes for a minute and think back to the surroundings? Bailey was acting up, you said.”
Edith nodded. “Not at all like him.” Then she closed her eyes. Stu hated to ask this of her, especially when she probably wished she could just erase it all from her mind. She’d probably welcome a small amount of traumatic amnesia about now.
She drew a deep breath, but kept her eyes closed. “I wish I were Bailey. Or that he could talk. He probably noticed more than I ever would.”
“That’s the thing about dogs,” Stu remarked. “They can lead you to the problem, but they can’t tell you about it.”
Edith relaxed enough to release a dainty snort. “Great, isn’t it? I’m more surprised that he didn’t drag me away from the park.”
Gage spoke. “I guess he didn’t think you needed protecting.”
“I don’t,” Edith said firmly. “I can take care of myself.”
“Obviously,” Stu said. “You certainly did this morning.”
Edith sighed again. Her eyes opened. “All I can see is that poor woman lying like a pile of bloody, discarded rags. Now that I’m getting past the initial shock, I’d like to kill someone. Will you arrest me if I do?”
Gage half smiled. “Maybe not if you get the right guy.”
Edith closed her eyes once more. “Men,” she said disgustedly. “And you know it had to be a man. I didn’t hear anything so it must have happened well before I reached the park. It’s so quiet out there at that hour. Air is cold, too. Sound carries.”
Gage scrawled something on the pad in front of him. “That’s good information,” he said encouragingly. “It helps with the time frame.”
“It does?” Edith lowered her head as she kept her eyes closed, and the two men sat in silence. It was clear she was thinking a
bout every detail, probably starting with the beginning of her walk this morning. “Well, I left the house a half hour before I reached the park.” She lifted her head, her eyes open. “I know because it always takes us that long to get to the park. Bailey likes to read the mail.”
“Read the mail?” Gage asked. Stu, who knew a lot about dogs, understood and nearly laughed.
“Does he dawdle a lot?” Stu asked her.
“Every bush and shrub, every post or fire hydrant. He keeps a close watch on the neighborhood and leaves a few of his own messages in return. He’s got a route and he doesn’t like to deviate. I guess he’s attached to some of the dogs around here. Anyway, we left almost exactly a half hour before we got to the park. He usually lollygags his way through there, but not this morning. He was a dog on a mission.”
“It would seem so,” Gage answered.
“And I didn’t hear a thing, except an early car or two in the distance. Oh, and some of the big trucks on the state highway, probably getting ready to pull in at the truck stop. Anyway, just normal sounds. And I didn’t see anything out of place.”
Gage reached forward to turn off the recorder. “Thank you, Edith.”
She lifted her cup again, sipped some tea and studied her hand. “Steady as a rock.” That appeared to please her.
Then, abruptly, she stiffened and her eyes widened a shade. “There was something wrong.”
Both men leaned in and Stu felt his heart speed up a bit.
“The birds,” she said. “There are always some that start singing before the sun comes up. Damn fools, if you ask me. What if an owl notices?” Then she shook her head. “I’m the damn fool. I wondered why they weren’t making a racket this morning. This whole dang town was as quiet as a tomb.”
Gage hadn’t yet switched the recorder off. “What do you think, Edith?”
“That the disgusting man finished his fun just before I got there. The birds. The birds were silent. They know when something is wrong.”
The birds, Stu thought as he walked Edith and Bailey to the door. He offered them a ride home but Edith refused.
“Need to walk this off,” she told him. “Both of us. If you think Bailey was unaffected, you’re wrong. Snoot full of blood smells, fear and suffering. Yeah, we both need to walk it off.”
He stood for a minute, watching her walk away, utterly erect, her Great Dane beside her. Except Bailey was hanging his head. For the first time he considered how that mess this morning could have affected the animal. He’d heard about dogs getting depressed by things like that, but it had always been peripheral to his existence, certainly not the first thing to spring to his mind.
He turned to go back inside, thinking about birds. Edith might have just nailed the time frame during which the perp had left the scene. She might have come close to walking into it. Or perhaps she had saved the young woman’s life, her and Bailey. Impossible to know now. The last rape had been violent but there was no evidence of intent to kill.
Until this time. Now they had something else to worry about.
* * *
Kerri had hung out at the crime scene. Not because she was a ghoul—God, no. She’d seen enough as a police officer to erase any possible ghoulishness she might ever have had.
Not that she thought the other onlookers were ghouls. The victim had long since been removed; the cops were working mostly inside the park. Nothing to see, move along. But a lot of people weren’t moving, but instead talking in low voices almost as if they were at a funeral. They were worried. Some, especially women, were scared. They sought comfort in numbers, and so many of them sounded like neighbors and friends.
She felt like an outsider, and hoped she wasn’t bothering them by remaining, but she wanted to hear what they had to say. You could never know when someone might say something surprisingly relevant to a case.
So, she hung around, joining in the conversations when it seemed appropriate or she felt welcomed. Snowy helped a lot, drawing kindly attention her way, perhaps making her seem harmless.
However it was, while the morning was still early, and the gathered crowd had barely begun to disperse, a man approached her. He appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, lean as a rail and friendly enough.
“Nice dog you got there,” he remarked.
“Yes, he is. Thank you.” She waited, wondering if he might be a threat. She’d left the streets a while ago and was no longer as confident of her ability to read people. Still, she was surrounded by a crowd.
“You know that deputy?” he asked. “Stu Canady?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Thought so, the way he was talking to you. Can you step away with me a moment? I need to share something but I’m not sure I want the whole town knowing it, not when we got a creep like this running around.”
She immediately walked about twenty feet away with him, asking, “Do you think you could be in danger?”
“I doubt it, but you never know.” He faced her, then glanced around as if to be sure nobody else was nearby. “Here’s the thing. I got me some awful insomnia. Hurt my back a few years back pitching hay. They keep wanting to cut, but no way am I letting a knife near my spine. Anyway, don’t matter. Point being, I was up during the night, standing in my bedroom window, looking out and wishing I could be asleep like everyone else.”
“I can sure understand that,” Kerri answered.
“Reckon you can,” he said with a glance at Snowy. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself, mind you. I could be that woman who got attacked this morning, or a few days ago. But anyway, I’m not sure this is useful, but you can tell Canady for me and see if it might be, okay?”
“Absolutely, Mr....”
“Webley, like the gun. Sheriff knows me, but if I go to the sheriff myself, the whole damn world will know. So just pass it to Canady.”
“I can do that.”
Mr. Webley nodded. “I live right across from the park. Just up there. Anyway, I’m standing there, wishing the sun would come up sooner than it will—you don’t need to tell me how stupid that is.”
Kerri smiled. “Trust me, I wouldn’t.”
He glanced at Snowy again, as if he took reassurance from the fact that she was another disabled person. “Anyhow, I see this lady jogger come down the street. Dang, I think, I used to be able to run like that. She wasn’t going really fast or anything but running like she felt good in her own body. Know what I mean?”
“I do. I used to feel that way.”
“Yeah.” He issued a short laugh. “Some days get gone for good.”
She wanted to corral him back to the point but got the feeling this man just needed to talk. Some people needed that connection, and what else would she be doing? Getting ready for a rape and law discussion with a class of young people, mostly men, some of whom probably still hadn’t learned that no meant no. “She was a runner? That’s helpful.”
“She must have a lot of miles on those feet. Plus, she must have trouble sleeping, like me.”
Instant connection, Kerri thought. This man probably had created a whole story about the victim. People tended to do that.
“Don’t know who she was. Too dark, this part of the street needs a whole lot more streetlights. Anyway, she turns and runs into the park. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t expecting trouble. Why would she? Out for a quiet run in a quiet town. But you could tell she wasn’t feeling at all scared. Not like she thought someone might be following her.”
Kerri nodded. “I think that’s an important bit of information.”
“I thought it might be. Anyway, I’m standing there wishing I could run with her, then I notice a shadow. A man’s shadow. All in dark he was. I think maybe he was wearing a ski mask. Yeah, it gets cold at night this time of year, but it caught my attention, anyway. Seemed over the top for someone who lives around here.”
Kerri nodded en
couragingly. “You’d know about that. I’m new here.”
He reared his head back a little, then smiled. “Yeah, you’re that new college teacher, right? I heard about you. But take it from me, you might want a ski mask at night right now, but a local wouldn’t. Unless he was up to no good. And you wouldn’t want it at this time of year if you’re running. Too hot and you’d make it wet in no time between sweating and your breath. Probably itchy, too.”
“He was running?”
“He was when he turned down that path behind her. Figured he was just another insomniac like her and me. I also figured he didn’t know her because he wasn’t running with her. Plus he was running a little faster. Anyway, I didn’t think much about until...” He waved at the crowd and the cordon. “Then it hit me and I feel like a damn fool. I’d like to blame it on the pain meds, but I didn’t take any. Hate the damn things. So I was just a plain damn fool.”
“I don’t think—”
“I do. Wish I’d called the police. Around here I don’t think they’d ignore it if I told ’em some guy went running down the park path after a female jogger, especially at night.”
He looked up as if watching the leaves fall in the fresh breeze as the day brightened. “Problem with living in a place like this is you don’t look out for bad people. You usually know who they are before they grow up. You don’t think about things like that man going down that path. You don’t think it could be bad. Until it is.”
He half turned. “Tell Canady. I’m going home to see if I can manage to lie down. If he or the sheriff wants to talk, that’s where I’ll be. Thanks for hearing me out.”
He walked away, past the crowd, many of whom spoke to him, then vanished into a house just one door down from the park entrance. He’d unburdened himself, maybe felt less guilty for something he didn’t need to feel guilty about at all.
Kerri looked up at the dormers on his second floor. He’d have had a very good view indeed. She needed to tell Stu.
