it would be, you know, discouraging for people to see where it happened.”
Discouraging? “How do you mean?”
“Wasn’t my decision. I don’t really know. I just heard, what with leaf season here and all, it might hurt tourist trade.”
“Discouraging?” Pellam asked in exasperation.
The deputy answered in a monotone. “It was kind of unpleasant. A bad fire, you know. Blood. We get a lot of hunters too. We—”
“Then why was the tape still up?”
“Tape?”
“The police tape. That’d discourage tourists too pretty fast, you’d think.”
“Oh, the tape. You’re right, sir. We forgot about it. But thanks for bringing it to our attention.”
“You’re welcome,” Pellam said. “What happened to the car?”
“Car?”
The miniature troops with needles were climbing up and down Pellam’s back, working hard. He thought about the Demerol. He thought about tequila, with or without worms. The pain was bad and he was losing patience fast. “My friend’s car, the one that burned?”
“Yessir?”
“I’d like to take a look at it.”
“Don’t think that’d be possible.”
“Why not?”
Not a nick in his deputy soul. The man was a real side of beef. “Well, sir, it just wouldn’t.”
“I see. That explains it.” The men stood facing each other, the deputy scanning the street for crime. Pellam scanning the man’s face. “If you could just tell me where it might be.”
“I really don’t know. I just know it was hauled away after the investigation.”
“You do any forensics?”
“I really—”
“Got it,” Pellam said. “Never mind.” They both did the street scan this time. Pellam looked back and asked,“I don’t remember what the company was. Would you know?”
“Company?”
“Where my friend rented the car.”
“We don’t have any Avis or Hertz here. Or nearby.”
“It would be more helpful to know where he did rent it, rather than where he didn’t.”
“Sillman’s Garage, I think it was. Up the road a quarter mile.”
“Thanks.”
The deputy said, “Kleman’s Funeral Home’s made all the arrangements.”
“Thank you, officer. Appreciate it.”
“Not at all, sir. I was to L.A. once. Me and the wife went to Disneyland. You know, the real one.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Suspect you’ll be going back for the funeral. The mayor’s got an airline ticket—”
“No, I won’t be going.”
There must have been a flicker somewhere in the brain, but there wasn’t one in the eyes. “No?”
“I’ll be staying around for a while.”
“Around here?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh. We expected you’d be leaving.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t be. Now, I’d like to see the police report. And—”
“Can’t do it, sir.”
“What?” Pellam felt the anger popping like firecrackers.
“That’s not public record material.”
“Public record material?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Well, I’m not public. I was his friend.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“How about the coroner’s report? Is that public record material?”
“Nosir, it’s not. But all it says is he died as a result of injuries caused by a fire of his own making. I’m pretty much quoting.”
“Officer, someone killed my friend. There were incidents of vandalism against our camper before he was killed and . . .”
“In Cleary?”
“That’s right,” Pellam said.
“I don’t recall you reported them.”
“We didn’t. I didn’t think anything of them until this happened.”
“Yessir. Let me ask you, you drive into any small town, the local kids probably go fooling around some with your vehicle, don’t they? Pranks. That’s happened before, hasn’t it?”
“Sure, but—”
“There you go.”
“But it’s never happened the day before one of my friends is murdered.”
“Murdered? Nosir. The coroner said it was accidental.”
“I guess there’s not much more you can tell me.”
“That’s right, sir.” The sunglasses went back on and the big man’s eyes
Discouraging? “How do you mean?”
“Wasn’t my decision. I don’t really know. I just heard, what with leaf season here and all, it might hurt tourist trade.”
“Discouraging?” Pellam asked in exasperation.
The deputy answered in a monotone. “It was kind of unpleasant. A bad fire, you know. Blood. We get a lot of hunters too. We—”
“Then why was the tape still up?”
“Tape?”
“The police tape. That’d discourage tourists too pretty fast, you’d think.”
“Oh, the tape. You’re right, sir. We forgot about it. But thanks for bringing it to our attention.”
“You’re welcome,” Pellam said. “What happened to the car?”
“Car?”
The miniature troops with needles were climbing up and down Pellam’s back, working hard. He thought about the Demerol. He thought about tequila, with or without worms. The pain was bad and he was losing patience fast. “My friend’s car, the one that burned?”
“Yessir?”
“I’d like to take a look at it.”
“Don’t think that’d be possible.”
“Why not?”
Not a nick in his deputy soul. The man was a real side of beef. “Well, sir, it just wouldn’t.”
“I see. That explains it.” The men stood facing each other, the deputy scanning the street for crime. Pellam scanning the man’s face. “If you could just tell me where it might be.”
“I really don’t know. I just know it was hauled away after the investigation.”
“You do any forensics?”
“I really—”
“Got it,” Pellam said. “Never mind.” They both did the street scan this time. Pellam looked back and asked,“I don’t remember what the company was. Would you know?”
“Company?”
“Where my friend rented the car.”
“We don’t have any Avis or Hertz here. Or nearby.”
“It would be more helpful to know where he did rent it, rather than where he didn’t.”
“Sillman’s Garage, I think it was. Up the road a quarter mile.”
“Thanks.”
The deputy said, “Kleman’s Funeral Home’s made all the arrangements.”
“Thank you, officer. Appreciate it.”
“Not at all, sir. I was to L.A. once. Me and the wife went to Disneyland. You know, the real one.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Suspect you’ll be going back for the funeral. The mayor’s got an airline ticket—”
“No, I won’t be going.”
There must have been a flicker somewhere in the brain, but there wasn’t one in the eyes. “No?”
“I’ll be staying around for a while.”
“Around here?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh. We expected you’d be leaving.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t be. Now, I’d like to see the police report. And—”
“Can’t do it, sir.”
“What?” Pellam felt the anger popping like firecrackers.
“That’s not public record material.”
“Public record material?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Well, I’m not public. I was his friend.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“How about the coroner’s report? Is that public record material?”
“Nosir, it’s not. But all it says is he died as a result of injuries caused by a fire of his own making. I’m pretty much quoting.”
“Officer, someone killed my friend. There were incidents of vandalism against our camper before he was killed and . . .”
“In Cleary?”
“That’s right,” Pellam said.
“I don’t recall you reported them.”
“We didn’t. I didn’t think anything of them until this happened.”
“Yessir. Let me ask you, you drive into any small town, the local kids probably go fooling around some with your vehicle, don’t they? Pranks. That’s happened before, hasn’t it?”
“Sure, but—”
“There you go.”
“But it’s never happened the day before one of my friends is murdered.”
“Murdered? Nosir. The coroner said it was accidental.”
“I guess there’s not much more you can tell me.”
“That’s right, sir.” The sunglasses went back on and the big man’s eyes
Similar Books
