Fixed in Fear by T. E. Woods Page A

managed to insult the chief. He stepped back and let Larry choose his spot before settling into the chair next to him, purposefully avoiding the head-of-the-table position. Rita Willers grabbed a pad and pen and took her seat opposite them.
    “Thanks for coming.” Chief Willers directed her smile to Larry. “How would you like to be called? ‘The World-Famous Dr. L. Jackson Clark’ doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue.”
    “It is pretentious, isn’t it? An affectation, I’m afraid, concocted by an insecure young man trying to appear wiser than he was when his first book was published. Please call me Larry.”
    “Larry it is.” She dropped her smile then turned to Mort. “Thanks for coming back today. You have any problems on the drive back down?”
    Mort assured her the drive had been fine, and Chief Willers turned back to Larry.
    “The papers have been all over our grisly murder. Five bodies, dead in a sweat lodge, most of ’em pretty badly burned. I assume you’ve been following the stories.”
    Larry nodded.
    “Detective Grant here tells me we have you to thank for his involvement in our investigation. That right?”
    “Yes. Mort’s been my friend for years. As has Carlton Smydon, one of the victims. I asked Mort if he could see what he could do to find whoever it was who killed these people.”
    Mort took the cap off his water and pulled a long drink. He had the impression Chief Willers was purposely excluding him from the conversation. He wasn’t bothered by it. For one thing, he already knew everything Larry had to tell. For another, he understood Willers’s need to maintain leadership in the investigation. He leaned back into his chair and watched the chief in action.
    “I wanted to speak with you personally,” she began. “As I’m sure Detective Grant has told you, your friend received injuries more grievous and more numerous than the other victims. Detective Grant has other ideas, but for the time being I’m operating under the assumption that Carlton Smydon was the target of the attacks. The others were collateral damage. Seven people were delivered to that sweat lodge. Five bodies were found. Detective Grant and I share the assumption that the two missing men are our killers. We may be able to find them faster if we concentrate on your friend.”
    Larry’s nod was as solemn as his voice. “Whatever I have I’m ready to offer.”
    She kept her eyes on Larry for several long moments, tracing his face with as keen a focus as she would bring to any trail she was tracking. Mort hoped his friend wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d be under Chief Willers’s laser gaze.
    “I like to start at the beginning,” she finally said. “Walk me through your relationship with Carlton.” Mort liked how she used the victim’s first name. “Take your time. I’ll step in with questions if I need clarification. Sound okay?”
    Larry nodded and uncapped his own bottle of water. He took a sip. “Carlton Smydon is my late wife’s uncle. I first met him twenty-six years ago. When I was dating Helen. That’s my wife’s name. Helen Catherine Smydon-Clark.”
    Chief Willers jotted the name on her pad. Mort wondered if she heard the same catch in Larry’s voice he did when Larry spoke his late wife’s name.
    “What was the occasion of your first meeting?” she asked.
    Larry hesitated. Mort imagined that after knowing someone half a lifetime it might take a moment to recall the first encounter. “It was a barbecue at Helen’s father’s house. Helen and I had been dating for several months and she announced it was time for me to meet her family. Her father arranged a salmon bake at his home in Laurelhurst.”
    “That’s a pretty pricey neighborhood,” Willers commented. “What did your wife’s father…do you mind if I call her Helen?”
    Larry’s smile was sad. “I wish you would. I like hearing her name.”
    Chief Willers’s voice was warmer when she continued. Mort appreciated the kindness.