Part 16 (1/2)

”We've got a bit of a mystery,” Doe Jamison said.

”What is it?”

”Yesterday some college kids were horsing around where Burl Creek joins the Sky,” Doe explained. ”Guess what they found?”

I had no idea. ”What?”

”A pool cue caught up in the underbrush. Dodge is on his way.”

TWELVE.

AFTER Sh.e.l.lING OUT FIFTY-SIX BUCKS FOR THE NEWEST Erlandson, I drove to the sheriff's office. Doe was behind the counter, talking to Dwight Gould. The two deputies were looking at a plastic-encased pool cue propped up against Lori Cobb's desk. ”We bagged and tagged it,” Doe informed me. ”Dodge should be here any minute.”

”It looks like a pool cue to me,” I said. ”But is it from the ICT?”

Dwight looked sour, a not-uncommon expression for the longtime deputy. ”Maybe.”

”Spike Canby's going to take a look,” Doe said. ”He's not sure that any of his cues are missing.” She made a face, indicating her disgust.

”When did the college students bring the cue in?” I asked.

Doe glanced at Dwight. ”It was just before you stopped by to take your break. A half-hour ago?”

”Not that long,” Dwight retorted. ”I should be back out on patrol. Let me see if Dodge is here yet.” He picked up his regulation hat and went out the door.

”Dwight's an a.s.shole sometimes,” Doe said, and immediately apologized. ”Sorry. I don't usually bad-mouth my co-workers.”

I glanced again at the pool cue. ”The kids found it yesterday but waited until now to bring it in?”

”They're kids,” Doe said. ”Eighteen, nineteen. There were four of them, two girls, two boys, and at least one of them knows how to read. They remembered something about a pool cue from the Advocate story.”

”Gosh,” I said in mock surprise, ”I didn't think anybody under thirty read the newspaper anymore.”

Milo loped through the door with Dwight bringing up the rear. ”Don't ask,” the sheriff said. ”I'm never going back to Goblin Creek. I didn't even get a b.u.mp and I lost two leaders.” He barged past me and went through the counter's swing door. ”Let's see the d.a.m.ned thing.”

”It's definitely a pool cue,” Doe said dryly.

”Right.” Milo studied the object for almost a full minute. ”It looks beat up enough to belong to Canby. But then it would, if it had been traveling downstream in the river.” He moved a few steps to look at a detailed county map on the wall. ”It's what-a mile and a half from the ICT?” He paused, frowning. ”No, closer to two.”

Dwight gestured at the cue. ”No prints, I'll bet. Probably no forensics hocus-pocus to help us out.”

The sheriff glared at his deputy. ”For chrissakes, we've got the guy locked up and a signed confession. Clive Berentsen, in the tavern, with the pool cue. You want to bring in Colonel Mustard?”

Dwight, who was actually a year older than his boss, wasn't backing down. ”You haven't got the weapon. Didn't the ME in SnoCo say the pool cues he checked out weren't used to kill De Muth?”

Milo scowled at Dwight, creating an awkward moment-at least for me. Doe seemed unmoved. She was probably used to the men's bickering.

”Okay, smart-a.s.s,” the sheriff finally said, ”let's ask Berentsen if he recognizes this thing.”

”You can ask Fred, too,” I said.

Milo stared at me as if he hadn't noticed my presence earlier. ”What are you doing here? Did somebody steal that Dungeness crab?”

I held up the elegantly wrapped baby gift. ”Yes, but I got it back and I'm giving it to you.”

”Bulls.h.i.+t. Come on, Dwight, let's talk to Clive.”

”And Fred,” I called after the two men as they disappeared down the corridor to the cell area.

”Talk about crabs,” Doe muttered.

”Do Milo and Dwight bicker a lot?” I asked.

Doe sighed. ”No, not really. But Dwight's been in a bad mood lately. So has the sheriff.” She made a sharp gesture. ”There I go again, bad-mouthing my colleagues. Please tell me to shut up.”

”Forget it,” I said, moving to the end of the counter. ”I've got my own staff problems these days. Not,” I added quickly, ”that it can't happen anywhere. If one person gets in a bad mood, it rubs off on others.” I took a few steps toward the hallway. ”I haven't heard anything out of Clive or Fred since I got here. Did Clive pa.s.s out from listening to Fred's sad stories?”

Doe shook her head. ”Fred's in the men's restroom, installing new faucets. The old ones wore out. He's really handy.”

”You should put him on the payroll,” I said.

”We can't afford ...” Doe put a hand to the earpiece she'd been wearing. ”Got it,” she said, scribbling some notes before hurrying to the far end of the counter. ”Dwight!” she cried, ”two-car collision at Grotto where the campground road joins Highway 2, no injuries, but traffic's backing up.”

Dwight, who always moved slowly, ambled out from the hallway. ”d.a.m.ned idiots. It'd serve 'em right if they ended up in the river.” He was still muttering as he made his exit.

The sheriff emerged, headed behind the counter, and propped up the plastic-encased cue against the wall. ”Clive hasn't a clue. Too wasted that night. Fred says they all look alike to him, and he never plays pool anyway. Where the h.e.l.l is Canby?” He scowled at Doe. ”You said he'd be here by three. It's almost three-fifteen.”

”He was busy,” Doe replied. ”He's also shorthanded. Norene's sick, so Julie has to cook and wait tables.”

Milo reached into the pocket of his plaid flannel s.h.i.+rt and took out a pack of cigarettes. ”You're still here,” he said, glancing in my direction.

”I'd like to meet Clive.”

He lighted a cigarette before responding. ”Why?”

I shrugged. ”I should know what the guy looks like.”

”Go ahead,” Milo said, waving a hand in the direction of the cells.

I started for the hallway. ”Why don't you get a real visitors' room?”

The sheriff tapped ash onto the bare floor. ”You know I don't usually keep perps in here for more than a few days. Berentsen's lawyer is supposed to post bail for him Monday.”

I stopped in my tracks. ”She is? How much?”

”Ask the judge.” Milo turned around and went into his office.