Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Even though she always had one or two crappy jobs, she apparently had a lot of money. That made me doubt her sanity, since if I had a lot of money I’d be gone from Wyandot County in a heartbeat.
“There isn’t anything to investigate.”
“You told them you’d talk to Detective Lehmann about it.”
“And I will, but I know he’s going to tell me Denny overdosed.”
“And you’re going to ask why he thinks that.”
If that was her idea of investigating, then I’d do it.
There was an irony here that wasn’t lost on me.
Usually, or at least in the last year, it was me saying “this isn’t what it looks like”.
And then I’d prove it wasn’t what it looked like.
But now, with Denny, I was saying this is exactly what it looks like, and no one wanted to believe me.
The sun was finally coming up when we parked in front of the sheriff’s office. It promised to be another gray, snowy day. I got Emerald out of the backseat.
My first indication that something was happening was Bernie’s Jetta sitting in the parking lot. There was also a black Mercedes from the early nineties, the weird Subaru and half a dozen other cars.
I made Opal stop in the lobby so I could open up Emerald’s snowsuit and roll it down.
She’d fallen asleep on the way over and now she let out a wail at being woken.
Once I was sure she wasn’t going to roast to death, I swung the car seat back and forth until she calmed down. Then we went into the sheriff’s office.
In the common area, there was a lot going on for seven-thirty in the morning.
Deputy Twiss was already there—dreaming of his overtime check, I’m sure.
Bernie was sitting pensively looking at Patty Gauthier, and I could hear yelling—or at least strong, forceful statements, coming out of the interview room.
I tried to set Emerald on a desk, but the lack of movement made her grumble, the grumble before the wail. I took her off the desk and swung the car seat back and forth.
I asked Bernie, “What’s going on?”
“Brian Belcher is in there confessing to Bobbie’s murder.”
“He didn’t do it,” Patty insisted. “It was me.”
Ignoring her—I assumed it wasn’t the first time that morning she’d ignored his advice and made that inadvisable statement—Bernie asked me, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to tell Detective Lehmann that Brian’s the one who killed Bobbie.”
“But he didn’t. It was me,” Patty said. “And I’m not paying you to accuse my… friend.”
“Okay, but isn’t it my job to get you out of trouble?”
“No. It is not.”
I looked at Bernie, and said, “Can we step over here and chat?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I offered Opal the car seat, and asked, “Could you?”
“Are you insane? My maternal instinct died with Punky Brewster.”
Punky Brewster was not dead, but I got her point.
“I’ll take her,” Patty said.
I was a horrible brother, handing my sister over to a confessed murderer.
“Just rock the car seat—”
She’d already put the car seat on a desk and was releasing Emerald from its clutches.
“Or… that.”
Bernie pulled me into an empty office and shut the door. I peeked through a window that was located next to the door, and watched Patty bounce my sister and coo at her. Opal watched them in disgust.
“So… what do you have?”
“Patty and Brian are romantically involved.”
“Yeah, I figured that out.”
“Brian’s father died last year of a heart attack. They blame Bobbie because she stole a shoebox full of his medicines, including his heart meds.”
“You think that’s what he’s telling Lehmann?”
“Yes.”
“Any evidence they did it together?”
I hadn’t thought of that. What would it be, though? Phone messages, texts, notes, diagrams, overheard conversations. None of which I had.
“Why would each confess if they did it together?”
“Because his defense is that she confessed and her defense is that he confessed. Reasonable doubt. Lehmann is going to need something more. A witness, or something forensic.”
“Do you want me to—”
“No, no, no… nada. Don’t do anything else. We want to cross our fingers and hope Lehmann can’t find anything.”
“You don’t want me to do anything, really?” That didn’t feel right.
“Not a thing.”
Then we heard a commotion. Bernie opened the door, and we went back out. Detective Lehmann was standing there with Brian Belcher and an older man I didn’t recognize. He had gray hair, and a scowl that made anger look like a genetic condition.
Patty was crying, still holding my sister.
“Brian, Brian you shouldn’t—” To Lehmann she said, “He’s just trying to save me. Don’t you see that?”
I rushed over and took Emerald back. My sister had a confused look on her face. She wasn’t used to other people crying. She was also very moist and in need of a change.
“I hope you understand, if you dare charge my client I’ll make sure you regret it every day for the rest of your life,” anger-man said. It surprised me that he’d waited until they opened the door to threaten Detective Lehmann.
Though, glancing at the detective’s face suggested there many have been quite a few threats issued during the interview.
“Come along, Brian.”
As they began to leave, anger-man gave Bernie a nasty look and then stopped in front of me saying, “You’re Henry Milch.”
“Yeah.” I did not want to talk to this guy.
He looked me up and down. Seriously, not an expression. He looked at my feet and then took in every inch of me all the way up to the top of my head. Then he said, “Jesus Christ,” and walked away.
After a moment, I asked, “What was that?”
“My father. Bernard Schaub,” Bernie said.
“You have my deepest sympathy.”
Without acknowledging me, Bernie shifted gears and said, “Rudy, you need to release my client immediately. You’ve had another confession. If you’re not holding him, you can’t hold her.”
Lehmann rolled his eyes, and said, “Gimme five minutes. I need to do some paperwork.”
Once he was gone, Patty asked, “Is that it? Is it over?”
“Not exactly,” Bernie said. “You’re going to need to watch your step. Lehmann is going to be going through your phone records, your bank records, everything he can think of looking for some kind of evidence that the two of you conspired to kill Bobbie LaCross.”
“He won’t find it. It was just me.”
There was the tiniest pause and then Opal rushed in with, “Dude, you really need to change that baby’s diaper.”
I hurried off to the restroom. Honestly, the introduction of actual food to Emerald’s diet had not helped things in the diaper department.
While I was trying not to think about what I was seeing—and smelling—I wondered what was really going on here.
Had Patty and Brian colluded to avenge his father’s death?
Was it right for them to get away with it?
Certainly, what Bobbie did was terrible, but she hadn’t meant for it to result in Russell Belcher’s death.
Then I wondered if that was negligent homicide or involuntary manslaughter.
Should Brian have simply turned her in? Would that have worked?
They probably couldn’t prove Bobbie took the box of meds.
I mean, I could prove it now—her fingerprints were probably on the shoebox.
And even if they’d been able to prove it, would it have stood up?
I wondered what motive Brian had given in his confession.
Had he explained about the drugs to Detective Lehmann?
Would being able to prove that help or hurt the case against him?
It might make a jury sympathetic. It made me sympathetic.
You never stole all of someone’s meds. That was not a good idea.
I finished up the diaper change, washed my hands, and went back into the sheriff’s office. Detective Lehmann was standing with Bernie and Patty. Opal sat at a desk ten feet away. I walked over as Bernie was saying, “So you’ve no evidence aside from my client’s coerced confession?”
“Not coerced—”
“I assume you had forensics go over the RV Ms. LaCross was living in. Did you find my clients fingerprints?”
“No.”
“Did you find anyone’s fingerprints other than the deceased?”
“We haven’t identified all the fingerprints we found.”
“Which one’s have you identified?”
“Well, only Buford Campbell. But he owns the RV, so it’s not unusual to find those.”
Bernie considered the detective for a moment, then said,
“Thank you, Rudy. Should you have any questions for my client please don’t contact her directly. Contact me and we’ll set up a time to meet.”
Lehmann grinned like a pit bull baring its teeth. Then, spinning on a heel, he turned and went into his office. I followed him in, stopping the door before it shut, then closing it behind me. Emerald was pulling on my hair, which hurt, but I ignored it.
From behind his desk, Lehmann said, “I’m going to need a statement from you.”
“About?” I gently untangled my sister’s fist from my hair, and she immediately grabbed another clump.
“You found a dead body last night. Or has that slipped your mind?”
“No, I’m here to talk to you about that. Do you know when you’ll have the autopsy report?” I tried holding my sister lower, so she couldn’t reach my hair. Now she pulled on my sweater, instead.
“The postmortem we’ll have in about a week. The toxicology report should take a month or so. Why?”
“His friends think it might be murder.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I guess it’s easier than thinking he did it to himself.”
A random thought: If I’d died when I overdosed would anyone have thought it was murder, would they have hoped it was murder, so they didn’t have to think about me doing it to myself? Of course, I did make a mistake once. Did Denny make a mistake, or was this what he was planning all along?
“You don’t think it was murder, do you?” I asked.
Looking tired, he sat down and said, “There’d have to be something very weird in the autopsy. But right now? No.”
“Did Brian talk to you about the box of medications Bobbie stole from his father?”
His face told me he had, even as he said, “I can’t talk to you about that.”
“If you want the box, Ronnie Scheck has it.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Don’t get too excited. He knows you’re coming. I doubt there will even be an aspirin in that trailer by the time you get there.” I was about to leave, partly because my sister was squirming so much I thought I might drop her, when I wondered about something.
“Everybody knows what Ronnie’s up to, how come he never gets arrested?”
Lehmann shrugged, then said, “The devil you know… that’s how it was explained to me.”