Page 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

At the sheriff’s department desk, I was told to take a seat, while they let Teague know I was there.

It had felt a little strange driving past the turnoff for the Torrid Avenue dog park.

The North Bend County Sheriff’s department was across a creek, a string of woods, then a mowed open area from those canine hallowed grounds.

One end of the building’s length was devoted to the jail and the other to the sheriff’s department.

Deputy Hensen, coming from a door I thought connected to department parking and heading toward the hallway that led to meeting rooms, offices, a large bullpen area, and official interview rooms, was a third of the way across the large open waiting area before he slowed.

He sniffed loudly.

“Ah, Sheila Mackey,” he said, as if he hadn’t seen me — the only person here — the instant he walked in.

“Hi, Deputy Hensen.”

“Dinner for Teague?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now I know who to hit up for leftovers.” He meant the Chinese, not the salad. Nobody sniffed appreciatively at salad.

And then he didn’t walk away.

Almost as if he wanted to talk.

Who am I to deny the man that outlet?

“Saw that you were the first officer on the scene at the murder of Jaylynn Dorrio.” Not a conversation-opener that would work with most people, I admit. But appropriate for the situation.

His eyebrows rose. “Saw?”

“While reading the transcript from the trial of Derrick Dorrio.”

The eyebrows went up another notch. “You were interested before his death?”

“No. Since his murder.”

“And you got it that fast,” he mused — possibly with a tinge of admiration.

“Uh-huh.” Wasn’t going to give up Aunt Kit or her sources. “Surprised the prosecution didn’t call you to testify. They had the lead detective cover your share.”

“Uh-huh.” He had stuff he wasn’t giving up, too.

“Why?”

“He was experienced at testifying. I wasn’t. Almost brand new, in fact.”

“I’d love to hear what you saw.”

“A car was pulled over by the side of the road. Neatly, not like she swerved off or was bumped. Lights and engine were off.”

“Which fits with the idea she was meeting someone.”

“Along with her being shot from close-up, with no sign of struggle or instinctive effort to defend herself,” he added.

“A strong element in the argument that it was Derrick. Along with his affair with Dova, of course.” The word affair brought up another question. “Why didn’t it come out that she was having an affair?”

“Was she? No proof we ever found that she was.”

I tipped my head to consider him from a new angle. “You never heard that she was involved with another man?”

“Oh, yeah, we heard that. Gossip mill and an anonymous tip. What we didn’t find was any evidence.

Nothing in her papers, nothing in her electronic devices, nothing that anybody said they saw.

She and this guy often ate lunch together at the school.

Before she had the baby, they had dinner together sometimes, too — in public, with no PDA.

Some minds apparently turned that into an affair. ”

His expression settled into his version of cop face. Not unfriendly, but implacable. I wasn’t getting more from him.

Just to make that official...

“Do you remember anything else about the investigation?”

Amusement crept into his cop face. “The question that matters to you is whether there’s anything else I’ll share with you. That answer is no.”

I grimaced, but didn’t give up. “What about Derrick Dorrio’s death?”

“Not on the case,” he said.

“Really? I thought it was all-hands-on-deck.”

His eyes narrowed with a hint of humor. “Teague never told you that. Besides, need to have someone dealing with the usual crime. See you.”

His non-answers strengthened my impressions of heightened activity at the sheriff’s department.

I was less sure what my presence might have told him. If he knew Teague asked Clara and me to share what we learned, he might conclude I’d come to bring Teague more than dinner.

Teague didn’t leave me in reception long.

He escorted me to a conference room I’d been in a couple times. The first time with Gracie because we’d been brought here straight from a crime scene, along with Clara and LuLu and Teague and Murphy.

I’d bet a forensic check of the room would still find dog fur.

I looked around as we walked in. “Feeling sentimental, O’Donnell?”

He snort-laughed. “Had no idea what I was getting myself into, getting tangled up with you... and Clara, for that matter.”

“Don’t kick yourself over it. The dogs didn’t give us any choice.”

“Right,” he drawled. “The dogs.”

It was partly true. Gracie, LuLu, and Murphy bonded fast and, in many ways, dragged their owners along. Well, except Clara. She was enthusiastic from the beginning.

I cocked my head as I started opening bags. “Are you saying there were sparks from the start, because — if anything — you were quite cool to me.”

“You never would have let me in your house to build shelves if you’d thought I was interested in you.”

I stopped with a wad of napkins in one hand and enough packets of soy sauce to lubricate the Chinese army in the other. “You were interested in me then?”

He continued opening boxes and setting out the meal. “Certainly intrigued.”

I’d concentrated at the time on the danger he posed to connecting my current life to my past one and possibly to exposing the secrets around Abandon All .

Looking back, I suspect I was attracted to him, and scared by that, considering his detective past — past at the time, now back to the present.

By the time he displayed interest, my own feelings had worn me down.

Was he now saying that had been strategy on his part?

Did I care?

To be honest, no.

No wonder my instincts had told me to steer clear of him. The man was dangerous in so many ways.

Too late now.

“I ran into Deputy Hensen while I was waiting for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he says to save any leftovers for him.”

He huh’d agreement and amusement, most likely at the idea of leftovers.

“Did you know he was first on the scene at Jaylynn Dorrio’s murder site?”

He looked over the top of the noodles and shrimp he’d caught in his chopsticks. “As it happens, yeah, I did. Read his report.”

Probably had a lot more detail than the transcript. Darn it.

“Seems to me,” I said, “the sheriff’s department and prosecution tried to have it both ways over the scene looking like she knew her killer.”

Yes, she knew Derrick, of course. But if there was conflict going on between them, as you would expect over an affair — if she knew about it — would she have trusted him to walk up to her car, especially unexpectedly, in an isolated area?

He got my point immediately. Because he was that quick or because he’d already thought of it himself?

“Most people wouldn’t expect a spouse to come up to their car and shoot them in the head — even one who was having an affair. Odds run against it. You going to let me have any soy sauce?” he asked with a glint in his green eyes I found irresistible.

“I will never deny you soy sauce,” I said dramatically.

He grinned. “How about this information Clara didn’t want you to share?”

As we ate, I told him about Rose Gleiner’s account of an irregular pillow being in Derrick Dorrio’s room when he was found dead.

“Huh,” he said.

Which told me Rose had already told the sheriff’s department.

“So, the question becomes who brought that pillow there,” I said needlessly.

“If Rose Gleiner is right.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Yeah.” His syllable did more than confirm that he’d met her. It also agreed that Rose was as likely to be right about this as fallible humans can be.

“The pillow must have still been there,” I mused. “Since Rose let only the assistant coroner in the room until your guys got there from what I’ve heard.”

He didn’t confirm or deny by sound or motion.

“So you’ve got people tracking down that pillow — if you can.”

Nothing.

“Knowing the manufacturer is a start on whether it was sold around here. Of course there’s also online ordering. And even finding out who bought the pillow doesn’t tell you who brought it to the room or who used it — if, in fact, Rose Gleiner is right about—”

The door to the meeting room started to open, revealing Deputy Eckles.

I met the younger deputy at the same time as Deputy Hensen.

One’s a mensch and a dog-lover.

Eckles is not.

Teague maintained he was a thorough, methodical deputy. I’d take his word for that.

For sure, Deputy Eckles was a lousy actor. I saw the proof of that as he assumed surprise, along with unconvincingly saying, “I didn’t know you had someone with you—”

Teague squinted in a way that meant he wanted to roll his eyes.

Eckles stopped his lie as I finished my interrupted sentence. “—Derrick’s cause of death.”

Eckles’ head snapped around to Teague, who said, in warning, “Deputy Eckles—”

But the deputy cut him off.

“You told her he was smothered? You shared details of the case with her ?” Eckles didn’t ask, he accused.

“Hey,” I snapped.

Eckles wasn’t done. “Pillow talk—” Did he recognize what he said? He showed no sign of it. “—with a civilian is unprofessional—”

Teague interrupted, focused on the deputy. “It’s a cliche, but, no, I didn’t tell her. You did, Eckles. You just told her the COD was asphyxia.”

****

“Oh, I bet that was fun,” Clara crowed when I finished my account over the phone as I drove home.

“It was.”

“Did you tell him about Payloma and Derrick?”

“I totally forgot. The pillow was top priority and then the stuff with Eckles ended our dinner. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

The delay clearly didn’t bother her.

We agreed to another dog park outing tomorrow, though closer to our usual hour than the previous two days. We’d use the time to go over what we’d learned to date and what our next steps should be.

In the meantime, I spent productive hours in my office typing away as I followed Mary Chase Rodgers and Whit Kendall’s progress on their journey to reach a happy beginning on Lattimore Mountain.

It wasn’t easy, but it was satisfying.