I
admitted I did.
"Well,
that little one—she couldn't have been more than eight or nine at
the time—she decided she wanted this funny-looking plastic
engagement ring that was in there, and I'm tellin' you, she come in
here every Saturday for the better part of (two months cashed her
quarter into pennies, and fed 'ejn into that machine until she got
that durn thing. Never seen nothing like it. Most kids lose interest
after a while. Not that one though. She was gonna have it, or else."
"You
remember her when she got older?"
Wrong
question. With a sigh, she set the cardboard box of mail on a scarred
oak table and walked over to face me.
"Mister.
You listen to me now. I appreciate that you got a job to do, but
there's certain kinds of things a lady don't talk to strangers about.
You hear what I'm sayin'? Hell. I was married to my last husband for
nineteen years, and we never mustered up the gumption to talk
about those Hasus and all those goin'-ons, so I sure as hell ain't
gonna stand herein front of God and everybody and run off at the
mouth to a perfect stranger about it."
"I
can appreciate that," I said.
"Good.
'Cause that Hasu family isn't somethin' I'm willin' to talk about.
'Specially not that Terra Hasu. It's not something the community
wants dredged up again, neither. I shoulda kept my mouth shut to the
big fella. It's just when I saw . . . anyways . . ." She waved
me off. "Never mind."
"Sorry,"
I said for no particular reason.
She
went back to her mail, but this time it was just for show, shuffling
rather than sorting.
I
waited again. She continued to fiddle with the mail in the box, not
looking my way. When it became apparent that I wasn't going to fade
into the woodwork, she walked back over to the window.
"You
want to know about the Hasus, you go talk to Mr. High-and-Mighty
Gardner over at the police station. Our non-duly elected sheriff, he
knows what I'm talkin' about. You go ask him."
"Gardner,"
I repeated. "At the police station."
"Bruce
Gardner. Chief of Police. You ask him."
"Thanks."
I
started for the door. She brought me up short. "And don't let
Mr. Pious fool you. He's got personal knowledge."
The
boys were shadowboxing and trading insults around the vans as I
crossed the street. A rogue's gallery of wanted posters' faces
adorned the front of the barn-red building. The eyes seemed to follow
me in.
Chief
Gardner wasn't on duty. Officer Milliken was a leathery little guy
with squinty eyes and a thick piece of dried egg yolk decorating his
blue tie.
"The
chief won't be in till five," he announced.
Allison
Stark's visage glared up from the chiefs in-basket.
"Could
you maybe give him a call? I really need to have a word with him."
"You
one of them with the pictures?"
"Yeah,
I am." I took out my PI license and showed it to him. He handed
it back. I passed him another picture of Allison. He smoothed it on
the desk in front of him. He shook his head.
"Never
seen her before. But then I've only been around for six years."
He smiled. "In these parts, that makes me practically a
transient. Chief Gardner, he's born and raised here."
"Could
you call him?"
"You
say it's important?"
"Yes,
it is."
He
thought it over.
"Stay
here, I'll be right back."
He
crossed the room and opened the frosted glass door behind the chiefs
desk, revealing a small dispatcher's closet. He ignored the
radio, instead dialing the old black rotary phone. I couldn't make
out what he was saying, so I sauntered over. He covered the
mouthpiece.
"Chief
says you'll have to wait till five. He's taking his boy fishing this
afternoon."
"Tell
him I need to talk to him about the Hasu girl."
"Hasu?"
"That's
right." I pronounced it again.
He
told him, and then he listened. And listened. I couldn't hear the
words coming over the line, but the staccato cadence and the movement
of Milliken's eyes told me what I needed to know. Gingerly, Milliken
set the phone in the cradle.
"Whew
boy." He exhaled. "You sure got his attention, mister.
I haven't heard him that excited since they tried to recall him for
enforcing the parking regulations. Be about fifteen minutes."
I
headed across the street to the crew.
It
was more like twenty. He slid the blue patrol car to a stop in front
of the station, shouldered open the door, leaving it bouncing on its
hinges as he quick-stepped into the station, waving a sheaf of papers
with the motion of his left hand.
Before
I got a chance to move, Gardner was back out the door, trailed by
Officer Milliken, who trotted along behind, holding his gun to his
hip as he loped along.
He
made a beeline for the Boys and me. Gardner was a tall man,
stoop-shouldered from years of trying to appear shorter. A redhead
with a walrus moustache and an untamed mop of carrot hair combed
straight forward on his head. He must have owned Eddie Bauer stock.
Crisp red-flannel shirt, green suspenders
under
a new khaki fishing vest. Several iridescent steelhead flies stuck in
the little sheepskin patch on his left shoulder. He pushed a torn
handful of Allison Stark posters under my chin.
"Are
you responsible for these?" he demanded.
Strips
of broken masking tape fluttered like pennants.
"Sure
am," I said pleasantly.
His
face was nearly as red as his hair. "Who gave you permission?"
"Permission
to what?"
"To
deface public property."
"What
public property?"
He
waved the flyers in my face again.
"These
damn things are all over town."
"I
certainly hope so. It's costing me a fortune."
"Don't
get smart with me."
"That'd
be a waste of time now, wouldn't it?"
"This
is littering," he persisted. "Littering carries a fine of
up to five hundred dollars and or thirty days in jail."
From
behind me, a voice called out, "I seen 'em jaywalking too,
Chief. Why doncha run 'em in for that while you're at it?"
I
turned to check out the voice. The crew had formed a menacing
semicircle right behind me. The sidewalk between Hub Tavern and the
Concrete Herald building had filled with locals, several still
holding beer glasses.
"Move
along now, folks. Go about your business," Gardner shouted over
my shoulder. "This is a police matter."
Nobody
moved. An undertone of voices rolled over the street. A shrill voice
rose from the back of the sidewalk.
"Why
don't you and Barney Fife lock 'em all up?" "Give 'em the
death penalty." shouted another.
A
derisive chuckle now rippled through the crowd. Officer Milliken's
eyes darted around like a spotlight at a prison break.
Chief
Gardner opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and snapped
it shut. Instead he turned his attention back to me.
"I
want you and these . . ." He seemed to be lost for a noun.
"Gentlemen," he said finally, "on your way. Right now.
Don't even stop for gas. Consider yourselves damn lucky I'm not
running you in."
With
that, he turned on his heel and stalked back toward the station.
Somebody in the crowd gave him a wolf whistle.
"What
about the girl in the picture?" I said to his back.
He
stopped, turned, and wagged a finger at me. "Don't press your
luck."
I
walked up close. His breath smelled of old coffee. I spoke softly.
"Look,"
I whispered. "You're the law here. I respect that." I threw
a look back at the crowd. "You seem to have enough trouble of
your own. I'm not here to make any of that worse, but you need to
understand that I'm not going away. I've put a lot of time and miles
on this case and until now I haven't come up with squat."
"You
still don't have anything," he said.
"No,
Chief Gardner," I said. "Actually, I do. It's not much, but
it's more than I had before."
"And
what's that?"
"A
rumor," I said. "A rumor regarding you and this Hasu girl.
We can have this out here in public. You can arrest me, but two hours
later, when I'm back on the street, I'll just start knocking on doors
again. You need to understand that I'm prepared to knock on every
door in this town if that's what it takes."
I
gestured to the swelling throng on the sidewalk.
"Excuse
me, Chief, but I can't help noticing that
folks
around these parts don't seem real supportive of your efforts. I've
got a feeling that if I work at it hard enough, I can find out what I
want to know from one of them."
Before
he could respond, I added, "What I'd prefer, though, is that you
and I have a nice private discussion. You know, one-on-one. Nice
and discreet. It's up to you."
He
scanned the crowd as he thought it over. "Let's take a walk,"
he said.
I
waited until we'd rounded the corner at the east end of Main, away
from the gaze of the crowd. We walked in the shade, along the red,
weathered side of a defunct Albers Feed Store.
"Excuse
me for asking, but isn't Chief of Police an elected office around
here?"
Gardner
gave a derisive snort and stopped in his tracks. "So they keep
reminding me."
"So,
why all the animosity?"
"Because
I insist on acting like a policeman. I had the nerve to enforce the
parking regulations, and I don't want drunks driving all over the
valley on Saturday nights," he said bitterly.
"Sounds
reasonable to me," I said.
"That
makes two of us, then. The guy I replaced, Marvin Hansen, he'd been
sheriff for forty-one years. He dropped dead three months ago over at
the cafe."
"And
you inherited the job."
"In
all Marvin's time, nobody ever got a parking ticket. Nobody ever put
money in the meters. Everybody ignored the burning ban. If you
got drunk and broke up one of the bars, Marvin just drove you home.
If you crashed your truck driving dead drunk, Marvin drove you home
and called a wrecker for you."
"Probably
explains his job security."
This
trenchant observation got me another snort.
Who
said I knew this girl anyway?" he asked as we continued our
stroll south out toward the highway.
"I
don't see how that's going to improve anybody's situation."
He
stopped, drew himself up to his full height, and pinned me with his
gaze. "Yeah," he sighed, continuing his walk. "I
suppose you're right."
He
stopped again and turned back toward me. Stepping in close.
"Why
should I tell you anything? Maybe I just run you and those tramps out
of town. If I start making some calls, I can run you all the way out
of the county."
"I
don't doubt it. But that's not gonna be a help. I meant what I said
back there. I'm not going away. If mat's what it takes, I'll be back
tomorrow with more of those guys and my attorney."
He
rummaged through the sheaf of torn photos he was still clutching in
his left hand and came up with a relatively whole copy. He studied it
carefully. "I suppose it does look kind of like her." "Her
name is Terra Hasu," I prompted. "Yeah. When I was a kid,
her family lived way the kell out in the woods up behind Diablo."
"Where did she go to school?" I asked. "They had their
own Christian school down in Hamilton." I waited. He picked up
the thread. They were real isolated. They didn't have much to do with
anybody outside the church. There were all these wild rumors."
"What rumors?"