Known Dead (37 page)

You hate to belabor a point, but it can be important. “Hanna found Edie, then?”

“Well, yeah.” A little exasperated. And why not.

“Thanks, Toby. I’ll probably have to talk with you, a little more, when I’m done in the house.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Pretty calm and self-possessed. Good, as far as I was concerned. Much easier to interview. I hated to see him smoke. Not for some sort of altruistic reason concerning his health. That was his problem. No, for the simple fact that I’d quit about five years before, and still had a bit of a problem when I was in the presence of a smoker.

I entered the front hall, crossed the foyer, and entered the main hall through another pair of double doors, also with the great oval glazing. This place was
really
big. And nice, too. There were hardwood floors, parquet. I started up the walnut staircase that incorporated an inglenook, got to a landing, and continued up the next flight of stairs to the second floor. I found myself in a long hallway, with a stair at the far end. I saw Eunice Kahrs, an EMT, kneeling beside a youngish female who was seated on an upholstered bench in the hall.

The EMT, Eunice, gestured toward my left. “Just go through that door, Carl, and on into the bathroom. I’d better stay with Hanna, here . . .”

“Sure, Eunice.” The young woman she’d called Hanna looked very pale, and was staring off beyond the adjacent wall, to some point known only to her. She was breathing rapidly, and shallowly, as if she’d been crying. “She’s a witness?” If you don’t ask the obvious, things can get by you quicker than you’d think. Besides, it wasn’t the first time I’d had two people with the same first name in a house.

“Yes. Hanna here found her, and called us.” Just like Toby said, downstairs. Good. Eunice squeezed Hanna’s shoulders. “It’ll be all right, honey.”

I leaned toward the seated figure. She seemed stunned. “I’m sorry, Hanna, but I’ll have to talk to you before I go.” She nodded.

I went past her, into a bedroom that had to be at least twenty-five feet by twenty. I could see Borman’s back, and most of Herb Balk, also an EMT, standing in an adjoining room that appeared to be a bath.

“What’ve you got?” I asked.

Borman turned, very somber, and said, “A real mess. A real mess. Looks like a suicide, but I’ve never seen one like this.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DONALD HARSTAD is a twenty-six-year veteran of the Clayton County Sheriff’s Department in northeastern Iowa, and the author of the acclaimed
Eleven Days
. A former deputy sheriff, Harstad lives with his wife, Mary, in Elkader, Iowa,

Also by Donald Harstad

ELEVEN DAYS

THE BIG THAW

And coming soon

CODE 61

KNOWN DEAD
A Bantam Book

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 1999 by Donald Harstad.

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Random House, Inc., New York, New York.

www.randomhouse.com

eISBN: 978-0-307-41817-3

v3.0