Authors: Ken Goddard
Fine with me
, he thought.
Deciding that he’d learned enough about the OMARR-Nine communications, and that the intermittent transmissions were becoming distracting, he dialed the volume down to just barely audible, and then went back to his reference work.
The Jasper County Auditorium wasn’t shown on the map as a specific structure, but there was a listing for it in the county government section of the phone book, along with an address and telephone number. And, much to Cellars’ relief, the map book did show reference address numbers in red — in relatively large units of one thousand — which would give him a rough location.
There wasn’t a listing in the phone book for the second, third and fourth names he looked up, but he didn’t find that especially surprising.
Once he worked himself to the correct map page, he quickly discovered that the shortest route to where the auditorium was roughly located would take him straight through town and right past the local hospital. That didn’t seem like a good idea with ambulance and other back-up units vectoring on the Good Egg Express from whatever locations they had started.
Having no idea what those locations and resulting vectors were, Cellars examined the map book closely, and finally worked out a circuitous route — mostly taking what looked like narrow and windy back roads — which he hoped wouldn’t put him on an intersecting course with any of the responding units.
Accordingly, it took Cellars almost twenty minutes to work his way around the outskirts of Jasper Springs — on what did, in fact, turn out to be very narrow and windy roads, to an intersection with a wider road … and a worn and faded wooden sign with a barely visible directional arrow that said Jasper County Auditorium.
It took another ten minutes of driving to find the building he was looking for, because he’d missed the small plaque on the first pass and only saw it on the way back because he had a better angle on it from the opposite side of the street.
Humming contentedly to himself now, Cellars parked the patrol car behind a handy trash dumpster that was a hundred feet away but offered complete concealment from street traffic, got out, locked the door, and was walking briskly toward the building when his belt mounted radio suddenly beeped.
Surprised and uneasy, he cautiously turned up the volume.
“— read me. Repeat, Oregon-Nine-Sam-Three, this is OMARR-Nine,
can you read me?
”
Cellars thumbed his collar mike button and whispered “barely.”
“Copying you very poorly, Sam-Three. Please repeat your location.”
Cellars thumbed the collar mike again, whispered “ambulance” and then shut off his radio.
* * *
The young woman at the receptionist desk — her reddish-brown hair tied back in a casual pony-tail that nicely matched her bright white blouse and green neck scarf — looked no more than seventeen or eighteen, Cellars decided, although he wasn’t sure how or why he knew that.
“May I help you, officer?” she said, seemingly started to see a uniformed policeman come in through the door.
“I hope so,” Cellars said, “I’m looking for Ann Tillman.”
“Oh, my god … is everything okay? I mean —”
The young receptionist’s tanned face had turned ashen.
“Yes, everything is fine; there hasn’t been an accident or anything like that, as far as I know,” Cellars said hurriedly.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. “We’ve been waiting all morning to hear some word from someone who’s just recently gone missing, and I was so afraid for a moment that —”
“I’m very sorry,” Cellars said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m just trying to track down Mrs. Tillman to get some information.”
The young receptionist smiled weakly. “I’m afraid you’re here a little too early. Mrs. Tillman usually doesn’t get into the office until nine at the very earliest, and yesterday was such a —”
At that moment, a slender woman in her mid-to-late forties with short-cropped brown hair and wearing what looked like an expensive pants suit and even more expensive jewelry burst in through the front door.
“Oh, Mrs. Tillman, I wasn’t expecting —”
“Get me the Senator on the phone, immediately,” she ordered, starting to shoulder her way past Cellars when she suddenly seemed to notice the uniform.
“Oh my god ….” She whispered, her eyes widening in apparent horror.
“No, it’s okay, Mrs. Tillman,” the receptionist said hurriedly, “he’s not here about Eric.”
“Jesus Christ —!”
Ann Tillman had clasped both hands to her chest, and looked ready to light into Cellars for nearly giving her a coronary when she suddenly seemed to realize that it wasn’t his fault.
“I’m so sorry, officer — uh, Sergeant … Bauer,” she said, her practiced eyes quickly searching for Cellar’s name tag on his jacket. “Please come in, I’m sorry … it’s just been such —”
Cellars followed Tillman around the receptionist’s desk and into a large and very nicely-decorated office. Photographs of Tillman with a wide variety of presumably important people — Cellars didn’t recognize any of them — adorned the walls.
“Please, sergeant, sit down.” She gestured to one of the chairs facing her desk. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’m —” Cellars started to say, but Tillman wasn’t listening.
“Well I
definitely
need some coffee … and something stronger. Sandra,” she called out, apparently to the receptionist, “can you please —”
But Sandra the receptionist, already anticipating her boss’s request stepped into the office with a tray bearing a silver coffee thermos, two china cups and saucers, silver cream and sugar containers, and a small bottle of what looked like some very expensive liquor.
With deft and clearly practiced movements, Sandra filled both cups with steaming coffee, added cream and sugar to one — handing that cup to Tillman and the other to Cellars — and then smoothly walked back out of the office.
“Efficient young lady,” Cellars commented.
“Sandra is a gem,” Tillman agreed.
Cellars sipped at the coffee and found it delicious.
“Cream, sugar, upgrade?” Tillman held up what Cellars now clearly saw was a bottle of some kind of fancy Bourbon.
“If I wasn’t on duty —” Cellars held up a hand and shrugged a ‘thank you anyway’ smile.
“You’re a far better man than I, Sergeant,” Tillman said as she poured a generous shot of Bourbon into her cup and then drained in one long swallow.
“Ah, that’s much better,” she said with what sounded like a heart-felt sigh. “Now, then, Sergeant, how can I help you?”
“First of all, ma’am, if you don’t mind my asking,” Cellars said hesitantly, “is Eric —?”
“Eric is my son. He turned up missing last night. We haven’t heard from him in almost —” She glanced down at her watch. “— fifteen hours now, and I’m getting very worried.”
“Have you filed a report?”
Tillman blinked, looking startled as if she’d suddenly realized something.
“No, I haven’t,” she said. “He, uh, just went out hiking with some friends. I told him he shouldn’t go; but you know young men are … headstrong and stubborn, the lot of them.”
Then she blinked and brought her hand up to her mouth as she seemed to realize what she’d just said.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean —”
“That’s quite all right, ma’am,” Cellars said, smiling. “I think you’ve nailed us guys as a gender right on the money.”
“I guess I’ve been hoping —”
“Was he properly dressed and equipped for this weather?” Cellars asked.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure he was …they all were … I mean the three of them have hiked these mountains for years, every since they were teenagers. And we always bought them the best gear we could afford. I can’t imagine that they’d … go out in weather like this unprepared.”
She was being evasive, Cellars sensed, extremely so … although he couldn’t think why.
Something to do with this uniform
, he thought,
has to be
.
“In that case, it’s still early in terms of filing a report,” Cellars said, saying words that seemed to be a part of his rote memory. “If they’re experience hikers, it’s very likely that they simply decided to dig themselves a shelter and wait out the storm. That’s certainly what I would have done in their circumstances.”
“Yes, I … that does make perfect sense,” Tillman said, smiling hesitantly.
“But, please, don’t hesitate to contact our office if you don’t hear from them soon,” Cellars added. “We have a very well trained and equipped Search and Rescue Team, and we can get them to the appropriate area in a very short time if it becomes necessary.”
“Yes, I will keep that in mind. Thank you, sergeant, for your concern.”
Then she blinked again, as if suddenly remembering why Cellars was sitting in her office.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant, I’ve been so caught up with my own issues, I complete forgot that you came here for a specific purpose.”
“I’m just following-up on a series of incidents related to a radio talk show in Jackson County that seem to have spilled over into Jasper Springs, ma’am,” Cellars said, pulling Bauer’s notebook out of his jacket pocket. “Apparently, there have been some threats made to some people who either appeared on the —” Cellars made of show of checking his notebook, “— Ace Bellringer Show?”
“I think you mean the Sky Search Show hosted by Mr. Bellringer.”
“Ah, I suppose so,” Cellars replied, making some quick notations. “If I understand the situation correctly, some comments made by both guests, and — I gather — at least one of the callers, caused a lot of people to get upset … resulting in a number of violent incidents, one right here in Jasper Springs earlier this morning.”
“Really?”
“I’m afraid so,” Cellars nodded solemnly. “Shots were fired and two people taken into custody.”
“Oh, my, I was afraid that something like this would happen. Those Alliance people are just so crazy … they don’t seem to have any understanding at all of how much damage they can cause with their foolish ranting.”
“Are you talking about the Alliance of Believers?”
“Yes, I am. They meet every month, down the road here at the County Auditorium. It’s quite a sad affair — divorcees, homeless people, gypsies, apparently with nothing better to do — all raving lunatics if you ask me. In fact, I’ve asked the County to revoke their permit to use the facilities, but your Sheriff doesn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Maybe he will now.”
“Actually, I’m with the OSP, ma’am. The State Police, not the County Sheriff’s Department,” Cellars corrected.
“Oh, I didn’t realize that.” She blinked in surprise. “Well, then, let me ask
you
something, Sergeant. Were you aware that one of your fellow officers was a guest on Bellringer’s show last night?”
“An OSP officer — are you sure?”
“I certainly believe so; he was identified as an OSP officer by Bellringer and his other guest.”
“Do you know his name?”
Cellars brought his pen back up, ready to write again.
“As a matter of fact, I do, because my Subcommittee is, at this very moment, in the process of issuing a subpoena for Sergeant Cellars to appear —”
“Uh, do you mean Detective-Sergeant Colin Cellars, ma’am?”
“Yes, Cellars, that’s him!” She nodded her head firmly. “He was also the one who got those Alliance people all excited with his talk last week at the Auditorium about what would be evidence of extraterrestrial contact … and then he had the nerve to come on Bellringer’s disgusting show last night as a surprise guest. Can you imagine an Oregon State Police Officer doing something like that? I mean, please, Sergeant Bauer, doesn’t the OSP maintain any degree of control over their officers?” Tillman demanded, her eyes flashing.
“Uh, I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, ma’am,” Cellars said hesitantly, “but Detective-Sergeant Cellars has been listed as ‘missing and presumed dead’ for almost a week now. We believe that to be the case — the presumed-dead part — because his badge was found, badly scarred up and bloody; but that’s all we really know for sure at this point.”
Tillman blinked. “This happened a week ago?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But how … how can that be? I mean, Detective-Sergeant Cellars was on the show last night. I’m sure he was because I distinctly heard Bellringer and that Patterson woman both say so. I mean, they must know what he looks like, wouldn’t you think?”
“I would,” Cellars agreed, appearing to write furiously in Bauer’s notebook. Then he looked up. “I’m definitely going to have to find out what went on at that radio station last night. Oh, and speaking of which,” Cellars flipped back a couple of pages in the notebook, I believe your name was mentioned as being one of the callers to the Sky Search Show last night?”
“Yes, indeed, I was … and proud of it, too,” Tillman declared. “People have to learn to speak up these days. So many terrible things — Godless things, really — are happening all over the world. If we can’t get people to pay attention to all of the warnings — like those mini-quakes we’ve been experiencing lately — I’m afraid that we humans are all doomed to suffer the horrible fate we deserve.”
“According to the host, Mr. Bellringer,” Cellars went on, “you mentioned something about Senator Mariott being very much aware of the secret federal government investigation being conducted at the Bancoo Indian Reservation?”
“A poorly-kept secret, at best,” Tillman nodded solemnly.