“Bernie, you may want to check on your boy out here. Rumor is he’s spending time at the r-side and with cass. P”
This is what I woke up to this morning. Paul’s a sitting judge … he has no business texting me.
Had to lie to the chief. I told him that it was a personal errand, that I was concerned for Mrs. McMurtry what with the fire and all. I don’t think he even heard me.
But something’s up with this kid. I’ve known it from the beginning, I had a feeling … I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but I knew it from the beginning.
Smart kid, but I think he’s crackers. I think these winding country roads, the trees, the oxygen … this whole thing has him off balance. Uneven.
He doesn’t have the heart for this work, let alone the stomach.
Granted, two murders is a lot, and in such a short amount of time in such an unlikely place. News to me, certainly, but he’s a New Yorker. He’s used to death and crime.
What I saw when I walked into that third floor office convinced me that the kid had hit a rail.
Dizzy from the walk up, I entered to find John at his desk, his back to the door, his head down in front of him. He was asleep. His shoes, tossed beside his desk, were in a pile with his ski coat and gloves. Clearly a sleep-over situation.
The phone rang as I pulled up a chair.
“AHHH!”
John stirred from his sleep, more rattled to see me there than hear the coarse brrrrrring of the rotary phone beside his left ear.
It rang once, then twice.
“Answer it, dammit!”
John shook his head as if to remove the cobwebs.
“Dispatch … this is John. Ca—aa—an I help you?” (I have to say, I was having fun with this.)
He looked directly at me as he spoke into the receiver.
“Yes .. yes … oh, that would be great. Sure, you can call and leave a voice mail and I’m sure someone will come by. Terrific, okay. … Okay. Thank you. Bye.”
As if aiming not to detonate an explosive device, John placed the phone into its cradle.
“Bernie … wha … what brings you here?”
What was it about watching this guy squirm that was so … gratifying?
“Well, son, every so often we like to check on the bureaus … and, right now, you know … with all that’s gone on, well, we decided it’d be worth the time to drop by and see how you were handling things, how you were doing, you know. Been a few days since we spoke, and I know it’s some heavy-duty stuff you’re dealing with ...”
A bead of sweat rolled across John’s forehead, which would have been considered odd since the heat in this place never worked, but in this case, I took it to mean I’d struck a nerve.
“Yeah … about that.” John stood and slid his shoes on his feet. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone or anything … I just … I didn’t have anything new to report, so I …”
“That’s not what I heard, son. I heard that you’ve been spending some time at the Riverside, you know, the evenings.”
I decided not to drag Cassie into the mix of things. Not yet anyway.
“Well, yeah .. here and there.”
“Great place to get information … you know, long wintry evenings, warm bar. You must be keeping your ear to the ground, right? I mean, that is how we do our jobs, right?”
“Right!” John sat back down and pulled a notebook from a pile on his desk. He began flipping pages. “Yes! So, the other night, I did get to know Sheriff Paul a bit … he’s, well, an interesting fella.”
(I’d never met anyone as dull as Sheriff Paul, but that’s another story.)
“… and, oh yeah, Cassie is cool. Do you know Cassie?”
I nodded. “Yep. I do. What’s she got to say?”
His breathing changed and the color drained from his face.
“Oh … not much.”
John fussed with his notebook as if he was a criminal covering up evidence. He glanced toward me, knowing that I knew he was holding out.
“Son, I’m your boss. You work for me. You may be covering the crime, or crimes, of the century out here. We both know it. You got national media crawling all over the place. You got crazy rich people. Hell, you got crazy poor people. Now you either tell me what you know, or you’re fired.”
I had had it. Was I jealous? Yes! Did I want to be digging into all this insanity out here? Yes! But so what! We’ve got a story and I need answers. I waited for his.
Suddenly composed, the kid leaned back. He placed his notebook in front of him on the desk and smiled.
“You can’t fire me,” John said. “I quit.”