Chapter 18 #2
“Good morning,” the deputy said, looking around.
“I suppose it is, seeing as I don’t have a bullet in me. Only the window was damaged.”
Gabe saw Eagan’s eyes widen when she spotted Alfred lurking in his corner. “Are you collecting antiques now?”
“Hah, not likely. That is something I recently acquired from my mother. I want to chop it up into firewood, but I don’t own an axe or a saw and don’t have a fireplace. Would you like something to drink? I can make you a coffee.”
“No, but thank you for the offer. Casey called and reported an incident last night, a shooting. Will you run through what happened with me?”
Gabe tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans to keep from waving them around like an air traffic controller.
“I think it was about ten p.m. Casey and I were talking and eating pizza, and Bowie started acting like he’d heard something outside. Next thing I knew, Casey was telling me to get down and the window exploded.”
“Did you find the bullet?”
Gabe frowned. “To be honest, I didn’t look for it. I was just glad none of us were hurt. We heard the shooter running off, and I was pissed as hell, so I ran after him but, obviously, whoever it was got away.”
“Did you see a car?”
“No. And we didn’t hear one either. If the shooter used one, they parked far enough away so we wouldn’t hear an engine. Which means, at least in my mind, that they know the area.”
Eagan nodded as she scribbled in her small spiral notepad. “I’d have to agree. Are you filing for damages?”
“No. Casey said we can fix it ourselves. I don’t really want my renter’s insurance to skyrocket.”
“Walk with me outside?” Pivoting, she reached for the door handle.
With a grumble, Gabe slipped on his Crocs and purloined parka and followed the deputy out into the rain.
Together, they walked the perimeter of Gabe’s home and his small yard.
Since Eagan set the pace, it was slow, and Gabe had to force himself to stay with her.
She was keeping an eye out for a clue as to where the shot had been taken from.
Maybe she thought they’d find an empty shell?
Gabe had no idea. He didn’t know a pistol from a rifle except by shape.
“There don’t seem to be extra footprints or any other evidence of an intruder other than the broken window. But with this weather, I would have been surprised to find much of anything.”
“Nope,” Gabe agreed. But then, he hadn’t expected to find anything either. It had started to rain again during the night and hadn’t let up. Even now, the rain was dumping down in unpleasant diagonal sheets.
“Do you think this has something to do with the young woman who visited you Monday?”
“You mean the one who is now deceased? How would I know? It’s not as if I’ve made any recent enemies. That I know of.”
“Seems like quite a coincidence.”
There was that word again.
You know how I feel about coincidence, Chance.
He did. Way too much.
Gabe swiveled to look at Eagan. “You still don’t know her real name?”
The deputy shook her head. “Her prints aren’t in the system, and she hasn’t been reported missing yet. It’s early days though.”
“Do you know anything about a family in the area with the last name of Pritchard?” Gabe asked.
“I know plenty families in the area with that last name. It’s not that uncommon around here.”
They’d returned to the front of the house. The rain abruptly began to come down harder, as if someone was pointing a hose directly at Heartstone.
“Jesus Christ,” Eagan muttered, tugging her hood forward again to better protect her face.
“I read somewhere that this is the wettest spring in recent history, and I believe it. If someone takes a shot at you again, or anything else out of the ordinary occurs, please call. I don’t want to have to learn about this kind of thing from Lundin. ”
Gabe nodded. He chose not to point out that he’d pretty much been living “out of the ordinary” 24/7 since he moved to Heartstone. How was he supposed to identify something unusual when unusual had become his norm?
“Do you want to come back inside? I want to run something past you, and as I said before, I have coffee.”
Eagan hesitated. Was it bribery to offer a cop coffee? Regardless, the temptation of a hot beverage must have been too strong for her to resist.
“A coffee would be lovely.”
Gabe pulled his door open and, because his mother had taught him to, held it for Eagan to pass through.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.” To prove her point, the deputy left her coat on but did unzip it.
“Yeah, I should work on getting a few more chairs. And a dining room table. Aside from Alfred, of course. No one in their right mind would want to use Alfred for sitting on.”
Removing his jacket, Gabe hung it on the hooks Casey had installed, then toed off his Crocs and left them in a haphazard pile. While Eagan was not-so-subtly taking in his luxurious digs, Gabe busied himself at the espresso machine.
“I would marry this appliance if it was legal,” he told her. “This machine makes the best coffee.”
“Then why do I see you at Norskland almost every time I go in there?” Eagan asked, coming over to stand across from him at the counter.
“Ah, good question. For conversation. The only downfall of this thing is that it doesn’t talk.”
Eagan flashed a brief smile. “What did you want to run by me?”
“Here’s the thing. I have reason to believe my mother’s family name was Pritchard. Karne is something she came up with after she… disassociated herself from them. That’s my working theory. Do you want steamed milk?”
“If you’re offering.”
“Done.” He grabbed the milk out of the fridge and poured a small amount into the stainless pitcher he’d purchased just for this purpose.
“It’s been a week, that’s for sure. Juliet, for lack of a name, showed up first thing Monday morning with her claim that I was her sperm donor.
That is not true. Also on Monday, I received a letter alerting me to belongings my mother had had in storage.
” He decided to skip past the Randy W. experience.
He couldn’t bring himself to believe it was connected to the rest of the craziness.
“On Tuesday, Casey and I drove to Seattle to collect said belongings.”
He nodded his chin in the direction of Alfred and the tattered boxes. “That’s what we brought back.”
Eagan looked over at the collection. “Anything interesting? Aside from the obvious.”
“There’s a Westfort High School yearbook from 1978. That’s where I found out that Pritchard is the name my mother went by before Karne. Eli Rizzi was in there too. They were both juniors that year.”
He poured espresso into a boring white mug, followed by steaming hot milk, and pushed it across the counter.
“So, I’m just an innocent man trying to figure this all out.
” That earned him a splutter. “My mother left behind a mystery, one she clearly wanted me to solve, but not until after her death. Which makes me think that whatever led to her name change was not good. Perhaps not legal.”
Eagan had her fingers wrapped around the mug as if she was hoarding its warmth. She took a sip and hummed appreciatively, nodding for him to continue.
“To that end, I’ve been poking around in the online archives this morning in search of some answers.
Pritchard isn’t an unusual name, but I was hoping I may see something about Heidi—or rather, Holly, which was her name in the yearbook.
One thing that did jump out though was a newspaper story about a robbery. ”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Last day of July in 1978. The 201 Gallery was robbed, and several paintings were stolen. I don’t know how many, the article didn’t say. There was an employee whose name was Carla Pritchard.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, I’ve searched for that name and found nothing.
Obviously, Heidi or Holly was what, sixteen at the time?
She wasn’t working in a gallery, but maybe this Carla person was related.
Maybe Carla was her mother, sister, or aunt.
That’s as far as I’ve gotten. Have you ever heard about this? Is this theft a regional urban legend?”
Eagan looked thoughtful, her brows drawing together. But she shook her head. “Nope. Mind, I wasn’t even a gleam in my parents’ eyes in 1978.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t for a couple of years yet, either.
But the fact remains that Heidi Karne aka Holly Pritchard is not pictured in any Westfort Puffin yearbooks after 1978.
From what Elton has told me, and I have no reason to think he hasn’t told me everything, Heidi simply showed up one spring needing money.
She proved herself to him, so he hired her. ”
Gabe paused and chugged down about half of his espresso. He was starting to feel the effects of his early morning.
“She didn’t tell Elton much about herself, and he didn’t ask.
Fast forward a bit, and Heidi, uh, makes a poor decision, and whoops, I’m on the way.
Elton says he knew what was up and that he’d figured out who my father was.
” He shook his head. “That’s a whole other kettle of fish.
Next thing he knew, she was gone from Heartstone, and he never saw or heard from her again.
Then I showed up a couple of months ago. Yay, me.”
“That’s quite a lot to unpack.” Eagan set her empty mug back down on the counter.
“You’re telling me. So.” He sighed the word. “You’ve never heard about this gallery robbery?”
Gabe would have been tempted to dismiss the robbery if he didn’t have that decades-old memory of his mother removing artwork from a wall and sliding it into the trunk of their car.
“No, but I can ask around. There are a few old-timers who come into the station and shoot the breeze—I’m thinking of starting a coffee and donut fund for them.
And don’t forget that Althea’s been there since the dawn of time too.
Seriously, I don’t know what I’m going to do when she finally retires.
The institutional knowledge that woman has stored in her head is irreplaceable. ”
“Off to Westfort again, I guess. No rest for the wicked.” The way things were going, Gabe wasn’t sure he had time to wait for the old-timers to show up for free donuts. And why weren’t they supporting Eagan for sheriff if she was making sure they got their sugar and caffeine fixes?
“Thank you for the coffee. We’ll be in touch if we find anything out about the victim, and if someone takes another shot at you, call us immediately.” Eagan set her empty cup down on the counter.
“Fine.” Which, of course, meant maybe.
Eagan shot him a glare worthy of Ranger Man as they both walked to the door.
“Yes,” Gabe huffed. “I will call the station if some asshole decides to take another shot at me.”
Satisfied with his reply, Eagan pushed outside, but the infernal wind grabbed the door handle out of her grip and tried to slam it back on her. Being young and nimble, she avoided being squashed.
“Sorry about that!” she yelled over her shoulder.
Gabe grabbed hold of the door as the wind tried to sweep it closed again. “Just my luck, I’ll get taken out by my own door.”
Eagan started to open the cruiser door, which in turn had him squashing the memory of the last time he’d ridden in a sheriff’s vehicle, with former Sheriff Eli Rizzi doing the honors.
Eli Rizzi, who’d gone to high school with Gabe’s mother.
“Deputy Eagan,” Gabe called out.
She paused, halfway in and out of the car, eyebrows raised.
“Any chance you might be able to ask Rizzi some questions for me? Since he was in high school with my mother and all.”
What Gabe could only classify as a Complicated Expression slid across her face.
“Might be a bit difficult,” she replied. “Rizzi was found dead in his cell this past weekend. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard the news already.”
With that, she finished climbing into the cruiser. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she banged the car door shut and reversed out of the driveway, presumably to head back toward the Sheriff’s Office.
For his part, Gabe stood on the tiny concrete pad that passed as his patio, with the rain and wind swirling around him, his mouth partially open.
The only thing you’re going to catch is flies, Chance.
He slammed his lips closed and went back inside.