39. Jawas
THIRTY-NINE
Jawas
Harry
“S o, boiling it down,” Sean was saying to Harry in his office later that morning, “Albert Tremblay is an asshole. None of his neighbors like him. Couldn’t find anyone in the entirety of MP who had much good to say about him. They all think he shot Dinklage. Their dispute went away after Dinklage came home from the hospital in a wheelchair, but everyone thinks that’s not because he felt bad someone did that to Dinklage. Instead, he didn’t want any more attention on their argument because it was motive for shooting the man.”
Harry tapped the back of a pen against the notebook in front of him as he listened to his deputy.
“In other words, in a snit after they had words, he took Dinklage’s legs then he gave up on the property dispute,” Sean concluded. “But I couldn’t place Tremblay as a bud of Dern, Farrell or Abernathy. The gun going missing seems to be about it being available to do Ballard, nothing to do with Dinklage and Tremblay. Apparently, this guy is such a cantankerous dick, he wasn’t even tight with a guy like Dern.”
“What about the gun reported missing just a week before it was used to shoot his neighbor?” Harry asked.
“He’s adamant it was stolen on that day. His wife is adamant it was stolen, also on that day. And by the way, they’re a perfect pair. She’s got an attitude too. Though, they couldn’t quite explain why it was the only thing they reported stolen. I don’t know about the dates, Harry. Maybe he gave Farrell some money to fudge them in the report. Maybe Farrell didn’t get the date correct when he was writing it. The problem with that is, we can’t find Farrell to ask just how dirty or stupid he was.”
This was a problem.
Nothing was giving with anything.
Abernathy was smoke. Cheryl Ballard was too. As was Farrell. Nothing from the Dietrichs.
Rus had reported the alleged fraud to the insurance company, and they were investigating as well, so there had to be more pressure on that couple, if they could get word to them that was happening.
But they’d been through bank records. Any cell phones registered to any of their suspects had either run out of battery (likely after they were dumped or left behind) or been turned off. No credit card use, though, both Abernathy and Ballard had withdrawn large amounts of cash from their bank accounts before disappearing. In fact, Abernathy had drained his.
No sightings.
No contact with anyone.
No fucking anything.
This was what Harry expected out of this investigation.
This was what he feared he’d be giving Lillian.
What was fucking with him was, it wasn’t just his operation that was on this. The FBI had a vastly wider reach.
And still nothing.
“You want me to keep at this?” Sean asked, holding up the files.
“Is there a next step?” Harry quizzed.
“Yes. Talk to Farrell,” Sean gave the right answer, it just wasn’t an answer they could do anything about.
Harry sighed.
Then he changed the subject. “The NTN video exams are coming up.”
“I applied.”
Harry smiled.
“So did Karen,” Sean told him.
Good , Harry thought.
“Wade isn’t feeling it,” Sean went on, telling Harry something he already knew since, in the intervening time, he’d had the same discussion with Karen and Wade that he had with Sean.
Wade liked the beat, the streets, the cruiser and working one on one with people. There were cops who preferred to make a difference that way, and Wade was one of them.
He’d already been promoted to sergeant.
It was time to think about lieutenant.
“Seems I got until February to find some money for you and Karen,” Harry said. And for a promotion for Wade , he thought.
Oral boards happened in the first six weeks of the new year.
“My woman is thrilled,” Sean said. “She says we’ll save enough from not having to dry clean my uniforms, we can take a cruise.”
Harry wore a uniform and required his deputies to do so. He also required them to be cleaned and carefully pressed.
Rus wore army green or khaki cargo pants and a long-sleeved polo or fleece with a Fret County Sheriff badge stitched on the chest.
Harry considered a more official version of that for the entire team, because it was more comfortable, easier to move in, friendlier to look at for the average citizen and a lot easier to maintain. But he didn’t want to make that decision so soon after Dern was ousted. He needed the authoritative visual. He needed to make a statement he and his crew took their jobs seriously.
Which meant now, it was still not the time to make the change, with the cases they were investigating reminding people of Dern’s tenure.
But he took the note from Sean.
Expenses like that on a cop’s pay could dig deep.
He and Sean finished their meeting, Sean took off, and Harry opened the folder that had Abernathy’s and Farrell’s bank records in it. Rus had gone over them, and there were some anomalies he wanted Harry to look at.
He saw Rus had highlighted some line items, but he didn’t get that far because his phone screen lit up with a call from Lillian.
She didn’t often call, she texted, so his brows drew together as he took it.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and his back went straight at the pitch of her voice. “A nugget to file away. Apparently, Kimmy keeps track of when the citizens of Misted Pines decorate their houses for the holidays.”
He relaxed.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“She knows my schedule is this weekend, so she came over and told me my bats were lame, then she dragged me to her shop, and she wants me to buy these things that look like black net Jawas, but their eyes are lit all over their bodies, and they have a witch’s hat.”
“Jawas?”
“From Star Wars . Hang on, I’ll send you a photo.”
He knew he lost her and his phone vibed with a text.
He got the image, and she was correct. They looked like black net Jawas with witches’ hats.
When he heard her talking again, he put the phone back to his ear.
“…less than twenty dollars each. She says I need five.”
“Get three.”
“You think?”
“Are the bats black?”
“Yes.”
“So get three and some orange lights.” The lights in the Jawa witches were orange. “I’ll string them around the porch.”
“Oh my God, I see your vision,” she breathed with excitement.
Fuck, he loved hearing that.
“Harry says we need orange lights,” he heard her say in a normal voice, and he knew she was no longer talking to him. “And three Jawas.”
“They aren’t Jawas!” he heard Kimmy shout. “And you need five.”
“Harry says three.”
A jostling on the phone and then he had Kimmy. “Three isn’t enough. They’re witches, not wise men.”
“Lillian’s front yard isn’t that big.”
“It’s big enough for five. You aren’t forming a coven, or you’d need thirteen.”
“Three, Kimmy.”
“Four,” she haggled.
But his attention was taken by Polly standing at the door.
And yet again, another member of his team was wearing an expression he didn’t like.
Though this one was more about him not getting it.
“I have to go, Kimmy,” he said.
“Gotcha,” she stated quickly. “I’ll tell Lillian.”
Then she disconnected.
Polly walked in.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked.
“That lady who came in the other day?” she asked as answer.
“What lady?”
“The one who came to share that Leland harassed her.”
Harry felt a mild spike in adrenaline, pleased she was back, hopefully to lodge a complaint.
“She’s back?”
“Her and nine other women.”
Harry didn’t move.
Polly came closer. “They’re filing complaints against Leland, for harassment, and Karl Abernathy, for coercion-based sexual assault.”
Harry stood immediately from his chair.
He stalked out of his office with Polly at his back, down the hall, and only stopped when he saw the entirety of his bullpen taken up with deputies talking to women.
Rus wasn’t there, likely because he’d taken someone to the interview room for privacy.
The woman who’d come previously glanced up at him.
There was determination in her eyes and softness in her features.
“This is about Avery,” Polly whispered.
Yes.
Word had gotten around about what had happened to the Rainiers.
“This is about Avery,” Harry said.
The woman released his gaze as she answered a question Raul posed to her.
“If any of these deputies needs my office for privacy, it’s open,” he said.
“You got it, Harry,” Polly replied, wading into the bullpen.
Harry returned to his office to lock his computer screen and put away anything anyone shouldn’t see if his office was needed.
Sean knocked on the door. He had a carefully composed expression on his face that Harry knew was him keeping a lock on losing his mind at what these women had been forced to endure. He also had a woman hovering behind him.
Harry nodded and walked out, closing the door.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
He looked at the screen.
It was Wade.
He took the call.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Did the usual drive-by Farrell’s house, got flagged down by a neighbor. She asked me to check something out. Harry, I need another unit and permission to enter his garage under exigent circumstances.”
Harry walked swiftly toward the back of the station. “What are the circumstances?”
“Something’s dead in there, Harry. I’m standing at the door, and even outside, I can smell it.”
Fuck.
“Wait for me. I’m on my way. We have a situation at the station, everyone here is busy. Call dispatch to send a unit out to you.”
“Got it.”
“Be there soon.”
“Later, Harry.”
He disconnected.
Harry pushed out the back door, jogged to his cruiser, pulled himself in, took the time to text Rus what was going on.
And then he headed to Roy Farrell’s house.