“Okay, we have a plan. But before we start, let’s take a breath and think this through.” It was the last thing I wanted to do right now.
Think? No. That came far too close to feeling.
I wanted to act.
Torpedoes?
Full-speed ahead.
Blowing up something — especially me — sounded good right now.
That’s why I had to slow it down. I wouldn’t be the only casualty if this blew up.
“There’s knowing what happened and there’s proving that’s how it happened. And if I can’t get it over the hump, the other side knows what’s coming and can build a stronger defense for any subsequent tries. Shelton would not thank me for that. And speaking of Shelton, we’d need him to have Hiram on hand.”
“You’ve been here before,” Diana said.
“I know. But this time it involves playing chicken with Norman Clay Lukasik, one of the top defense attorneys in the country.”
“The top,” Mike said dryly. “Just ask him.”
“That could be good. He’s full of himself. Cocky. That’ll make him easier to take. You can take him,” Jennifer said.
Tom was the only one who hadn’t spoken.
The others looked at him. I didn’t. He said, “I have no right to try to push you.”
That had more meaning than the others knew.
“But?” I prompted, none too gently.
The driest whisper of a grin touched the corners of his mouth. “But I’ll represent Tamantha’s interests in this by saying, do it. Go for it, Elizabeth Margaret Danniher.”
* * * *
We divided up.
For the drive to the grazing association, Mike and I were in his SUV, with Odessa and Asheleigh as passengers. All it had taken was telling Odessa that Norman Clay Lukasik would be there.
That left Richard Alvaro free for other duties.
Tom drove his truck, with Clyde, Diana, and Jennifer along. Paul Chaney and his uncle, Otto, were reserves if we needed more on the rustling.
Clyde was to call his father on the way, then have Kesler call Gable or Tom would call him direct. Either way, Gable would be told Asheleigh would be there. We figured that made him a sure-show.
And he was the second lever to get Norman Clay Lukasik over the hump.
I’d applied the first lever. Ego all the way.
“We’re bringing together the people from what happened — the important ones. We won’t be filming, but working out statements and sequences for later filming for a special we’re doing. You might not be aware, spending so much time away from here, that our specials on crimes have been well-received, including national and even international attention.” Hey, being aired in Canada qualified as international. “We need to have potential participants on hand at the grazing association now to be included in what airs.”
“This is very short notice,” came the important man complaint.
Biting back comments about murder investigations seldom allowing time for engraved invitations, I said, “If it weren’t vital, we would never ask it of you.”
“Well… I’ll see.”
I was fairly confident I had him.
Shelton was supposed to bring Hiram.
I figured it at fifty-fifty.
“Reenactment?” Shelton had repeated when I’d gone to see him at the sheriff’s department. He’d spread out the syllables with extra emphasis on the third — re-en-ACT-ment — to pile on the disdain.
I’d gone alone, the others busy with the other arrangements.
Besides, Shelton would get his back up regardless, but the fewer witnesses the better.
“Not an exact reenactment,” I said mildly, “even though we’ll be at the grazing association.”
“I don’t care where you’ll be. I’m not getting involved in amateur theatrics. Am-a-teur.”
“I have two cards to play here, Sergeant Shelton. The first—”
“You have no cards, Ms. Danniher. Not a one.”
“—is that you’ve been using me and Tom Burrell and Diana Stendahl and James Longbaugh to get information out of Hiram Poppinger.”
Another man would have invited my explanation by asking How could I have done that when we kept the audio off when you were talking in the interview room?
Shelton made me plunge ahead, uninvited.
“You’ve had Richard Alvaro reading Hiram’s lips as he answered my questions.”
Another man’s jaw might have dropped. Shelton’s left eyelid flickered.
“I understand the temptation. You never counted Hiram as your prime suspect, but his stubbornness in holding back things slowed your clearing of the underbrush. When James asked to bring in other people to talk with Hiram, you thought, what the heck. It might help.
“Especially with the ace up your sleeve of Richard’s ability to read lips. How did he learn? If you say it wasn’t from someone in his family, I won’t believe you. Someday somebody will do a study of the Alvaros and all their abilities.”
Because he knew how easily I could track it down, he answered. “Understand an older sister taught him when she was learning.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if he — or you — want to keep his ability a secret, tell him not to let on that he caught a Casablanca reference when he was too far away to hear it.”
No reaction. Though I suspected Richard would hear about it.
“I don’t hold the ploy against you, entirely. However, James might feel differently. And I don’t suppose your chain of command would be happy to have it reported on TV. Ah. I see you did not go up the chain of command.”
Tamping down triumph, I said, “The second card is that you owe me a favor.”
He didn’t squirm or deny. “You claiming this favor and canceling out all debt for yourself or for someone else?”
“Someone else.”
His steady look demanded more as the price of even possible cooperation.
“Tamantha Burrell.”