Left Hanging by Patricia McLinn Page B

don’t know if even Thurston Fine would be satisfied with that example of doublespeak, and I guarantee Needham Bender of the Independence would make you feel as if a buzz saw had just had its way with you.”
    “It’s early in the investigation, and—”
    “And you want to keep everything to yourself. That’s the instinct of every law enforcement type on this planet. It never works. Never. Even in the most repressive countries, there’s always leakage. Where there’s a free press and emphasis on individual freedoms—sound like anyplace you know?—it’s just asking for aggravation. And suspicion. How many people will think you’re trying to protect something other than the investigation? Your own mishandling of it, maybe? Or a big shot who’s involved?”
    He winced and didn’t argue. Progress.
    “With the recent history of top law enforcement officials in Cottonwood County, people will be suspicious. There’s no getting around that. You have to be even more open and aboveboard than usual. Lay it all out on the table. At least as much as you possibly can. You need to think through what’s absolutely essential to keep away from the public. But there’ll also be aspects you would rather keep quiet that will get out despite your best efforts. You’re far better off being open with the media about those aspects than trying to pretend the public doesn’t already know.”
    “The public doesn’t know—”
    “Everything a civilian saw, heard, or told you will be out to the public by morning, if it’s not already.”
    “We instructed them not to talk about their statements or the situation.”
    “Richard.” I shook my head again. “I’ve only been in this county a few months, and you’ve lived here all your life, and I already know that half the county knew Keith Landry had been found dead in the bull pen before you reached the rodeo grounds. If you think anybody you’ve talked to today won’t share the juicy details, you are not half as smart as I think you are.”
    He opened his mouth to stonewall me. I saw the realization and the weariness hit him, and he slumped. “Oh, crap.”
    “Exactly.” I gave him half a minute before asking, “What bothered you about the scene?”
    He heaved a sigh. “You know what shape the deceased was found in?”
    “I heard.” No point in reminding him I’d also seen, along with every TV viewer of Jenks’ video on tonight’s news.
    “It was real hard to tell exactly what happened. The new deputy coroner didn’t tell me anything I couldn’t see with my own eyes, either. Seemed awfully nervous.”
    I could imagine. A young deputy and a new deputy coroner handling the death of a well-known figure. “Why wasn’t the coroner there?”
    A shutter came down. “Don’t know.”
    Something started ticking at the back of my brain, but the immediate concern was to keep him talking, keep him occupied.
    “The coroner wasn’t there, and it was you and this new deputy coroner, acting nervous and not telling you anything. Your instincts were telling you something wasn’t right. Where did that—” I almost said feeling . That would have been a mistake. Less experienced law enforcement types seldom acknowledge having feelings. “—instinct focus.”
    “The body didn’t seem  . . . right.”
    “How not right?”
    “For one thing, there wasn’t as much blood as I’d’ve expected. But that’s off the record,” he said hurriedly.
    I raised innocent hands. Also empty hands, reminding him I had no video. And unless it’s on video, it didn’t happen as far as TV news goes.
    “I don’t know that it wasn’t an accident, Elizabeth. I just didn’t want to take a chance of fu—screwing it up when I was in charge.”
    It was rather sweet the way he reddened after catching himself and softening his language. He’d probably blanch if he heard half of what was said in a newsroom every day.
    “A very sensible reaction. What did you do?”
    “That’s not something