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"Rainbow Bailey, always making an entrance." Mrs. Sheri Dillon, called to me from the front desk. In her thirty plus year career as Police headquarters administrator, she had faced down various disorderly drunks and teenage hoodlums. It didn't matter that she was shorter than most seventh graders, she demanded, and received, respect. "What a way to baptize the new chief!"
I set a smile on my face, accepting the first of many not-so-helpful comments I would receive today now that I was out in the community running errands. "Well, finding Harvey like that was quite a shock. I am here to give my statement so they can catch the killer. But I would also like to make amends by paying for the dry cleaning."
Mrs. Dillon nodded her approval before buzzing us through the lobby door. "I took them to my cousin Kristi's place. Chief wouldn't let me at first. But as soon as he stormed out to find you, my nose led me straight to them. His clothes would be ruined if I hadn't stepped in, and I couldn't let our new town representative walk around looking and smelling like the trash."
"I am very thankful you did that. Please have Kristi call me when they are ready. I would like to pick them up and deliver myself with sincere apologies."
"As it should be," Mrs. Dillon affirmed. "I will let her know."
Polite conversation completed, I asked, "Is the Chief in his office?"
"I think he just stepped out for a moment. But I know he is very anxious to see you, so why don't you wait for him in his office. He won't mind. The boys will follow me and behave themselves in the conference room, I am sure." Mrs. Dillon directed.
"Yes, ma'am." The three boys responded in chorus, though disappointment was written all over their faces. They recognized the firm command and marched behind Mrs. Dillon to the left as I headed further down the hall to the Chief's office.
I hesitated just inside the door, not wanting to be caught in the middle of a power play. The free invitation into his office was probably one of Sheri's little tricks to make her impression on the new Chief. It might take a few weeks, but Sheri would impress on him what she has taught many of his predecessors. Chief Jonathan Flint might be the Chief of Police, but Mrs. Sheri Dillon was the boss of the office.
I applauded when the Charlottesville City Board decided to hire someone fresh, someone unrelated to our fair townsfolk, to the position of Chief. Our town's tumultuous history includes a few long-lasting family feuds. Thankfully, most have died out over the years, but their memories surface on occasion, and we certainly did not need any new ones.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to sit down in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the desk while I waited for him. 'Look, but don't touch,' Aunt Irene always said.
First impression of the new chief said formal all the way. According to the paper, this was his first job as the Chief of Police of any town. He was making every effort to show he was up for the job. The wall behind his desk was covered with awards and citations, carefully positioned in an overall elongated diamond pattern. Adding up the years, the awards covered over twenty years of service to the city of St. Louis. It was an impressive record, revealing his dedication to his job and community. Neat, formal and proud. Coming to our small town with no big awards to hand out would be a big adjustment.
On his desk was an ornate light wood frame, different from the dark wood ones he hung on the wall. The blue flowers carved and painted on the edges piqued my curiosity. I couldn't help picking it up.
It held two pictures. The full-sized picture captured the pure energy of a beautiful dark-haired woman in a simple blue summer dress, standing in a city park, laughing at the person behind the camera. Her smile would hold anyone's glance, but I was drawn to the smaller photo. Tucked in the lower corner was a much older faded photo of a shy girl, leaning against a red barn. Though taken many years apart, it was easy to see they were the same person.
Something was familiar to me, though I couldn't pinpoint what exactly. It was a young girl in cutoff jeans, the style back thirty years ago, and a red barn like all other country barns, and some structure off in the distance.
"Mrs. Bailey," called Chief Flint from behind me.
I felt like a kid with hands caught in the cookie jar, and quickly put the frame back on his desk. Hoping I had found the right spot on the desk, I turned around.
"I see you finally made it into the building. Please sit down." He motioned as he walked over to his desk. Pressing the intercom button, "Mrs. Dillon, please send in Officer Engebrecht with Mrs. Bailey's statement."
"Yes, Chief. Right away, Chief," Mrs. Dillon responded with an extra cheery clip in her voice.
Oh, yes, Sheri was definitely having fun breaking in Johnathan Flint, and I was right in the middle of it.
As 'right away' turned into minutes, I decided to break the monotony of silence. "How do you like it here in our quiet little town?"
"Just fine."
"The city picked a nice house to rent for you." I commented, referring to the small two-bedroom house on the edge of town. "Surrounded by farmed fields will be a new experience for a man used to living in the city.
He nodded.
"Nice picture." I indicated the frame I had been holding.
"Thank you."
Enough of these simple answers. If he didn't want to have a nice conversation, well, too bad. Welcome to small town life: we like to chat.
"That frame is personal, very different from the other on the wall. Must be someone very special. Your deceased wife perhaps? She was very beautiful and very happy." I rambled on, but the Chief said nothing. I started walking around. "Now the certificates on the wall stand out nicely. Many people put their photos up haphazardly, but you took the time to give it order and balance."
His eyes followed me as I walked, but no comment came from the other side of the desk. I tried another tract as I returned to my seat. "Sometime soon you should stop by the Pit Stop for a 'Welcome to the community' dinner. Did you enjoy today's special at the diner down the street? Oh, I should warn you that the tomato sauce and silk ties do not mix. I hope you give it to Sheri for dry cleaning. Her cousin, Kristi, is the best in town."
The chief hurriedly looked down his shirt for tomato spots. Not finding any, his eyes return to me. "Was that supposed to be childish joke, Mrs. Bailey?"
"What? Oh, no, you misunderstand me. I see you have a green striped tie now with your blue shirt. You don't strike me as a sloppy dresser. I have an eye for colors and I am pretty sure it was a blue tie this morning, which tells me something spilled and you changed it quick. Dina's diner serves meatballs every Tuesday, so it was probably her spaghetti sauce." I shrugged, "It helps our business to know the competition's menu, you know."
Mercifully, Officer Engebrecht finally walked in, clearing his throat to break the tension, and handed over a file folder. After glancing at the contents, the Chief handed it to me. "Is this correct?"
"Sad, isn't it," I said after reading the one-page report, "that the ending of Harvey's life could be written down in so few paragraphs. I do hope this information helps you. No one should get away with murdering an odd but sweet man and tossing him in the garbage like junk."
The chief leaned back in his chair. "You said that before. You believed it was murder from the start, and not just an accidental death. Why?"
I thought carefully, "Well, you had to know Harvey. As a mentally challenged person, he was odd by the town's standards, but definitely not crazy. Yes, he liked walking around the community with unplugged headphones just talking to himself, but he was always friendly and courteous. And he was smart enough to dress appropriately for the weather. Last night, though, he was dressed decently in his work pants, not in his old junk clothes that he would use for dumpster diving. And remember that his eyes were open. Also, he seemed wrapped in plastic with many other bags around him like someone tried to cover him up."
Chief was looking at me while he hand-scribbled some notes. "Didn't you report last night that you only glimpsed his leg and face, before you scrambled out?"
"Yes," I agreed, "but that is all it takes to recognize nice khaki pants and that his shirt had a collar."
His pencil hovered over the paper. "Anything else?"
"Hmm." I closed my eyes, focusing in on those precious few seconds. Last night I was too shocked to think on it, but it wasn't as painful now. "Well, there was a dark smear on the plastic around him. Not on his face, but more from his back. I suppose even that could have been from hitting his head in a fall, but why would anyone need to cover that up if it was an accident?"
"I was hoping you might be able to provide that information," replied the chief.
"What do you mean?" I asked, opening my eyes.
"You seem to know exactly what happened." He stated.
"Of course not. I just told you everything I observed." Then I added, "I am trying to help the investigation as a good citizen should. Am I still a suspect?"
Chief Flint shrugged, "Is there something you would like to confess?"
Maybe my husband was right. Maybe I did need a lawyer. But I didn't do anything wrong! I opened my mouth to reply, but didn't know where to start.
He sat there with an encouraging smile. Is this how he earned all those awards, by infuriating people so they blurt out confessions? Well, I had nothing to confess, and I refused to play his game.
"You didn't answer my question, which, as I said at the house, means there is not enough evidence. Especially with my father's alibi, you would need solid evidence." I reasoned out-loud for him. "Also, I believe even in the big city murder cases, a motive is required."
I leaned over his desk, my hands on his pristine desk, "Write this down in your notes: I HAVE NO MOTIVE. Harvey was always friendly to me and my family. In fact, years ago, he helped the twins find the way home when they became lost on a bike ride. As for the details, I just notice them. Always have. It is what makes me a good artist."
"Take Josiah, here." I turned to Officer Engebrecht, "So distracted thinking about Miranda's pretty face, he didn't notice the chocolate sauce from last weekend's ice cream social was still on his uniform."
"How did you know?" Officer Josiah Engebrecht asked, looking down at his shirt. "You weren't even in town."
I turned back to the chief. "In true Romeo and Juliet fashion, and thanks to an old family feud about reasons long forgotten, Mr. Anderson would never let his daughter Miranda date an Engebrecht. Josiah, working the late shift, probably patrolled by the church hoping to see her at the social. She snuck some ice cream out to him, and in saying good-bye the chocolate spilled."
"Nobody saw us, I swear." Josiah turned red, wailed his denial. "You won't tell her dad, will you? I don't want her to get into any trouble."
Ignoring his officer, the chief asked, "You guessed all that on one chocolate stain?"
"Inferred, yes." I corrected him.
"Then, why didn't you report all this about Harvey Henson last night?"
Somewhere in that conversation, I had wiped the smile off the chief's face. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Preferring not to dig my grave deeper as I tried to climb out of it, I took my time responding.
"I had just fallen on a dead body. Someone I knew personally. Chief, I think your clothes testify to my state of mind about that," I began.
A raised eyebrow was his only response.
Uh, oh. I had better reach my point quickly. "Thanks to farm life, I have dealt with death a few times in my life. Last night was different, and not something I ever want to repeat. Definitely not easy to think about. But today, the sun is shining and I am over the surprise. It is much easier to reflect and focus on the details."
Giving a nod to his wall of plaques, I continued. "And once you have all the right details, that wall of achievements tells me that you have the skills needed to find the culprit."
I reached over to initial his notes and signed my statement. "Here is my signed statement. If you have more questions, I will be at home, at the sub shop, or out doing whatever is listed in my planner. Which reminds me, when can I get my purse, cell phone and others things from the van?"
"Sorry, that is all evidence for now." He stated quietly.
I rolled my eyes while putting on my sweetest smile, "Well, whatever will help you catch the killer. But can we compromise? The purse I can do without, and I can use the twins' phone for now. But I really need a photo copy of my day planner and any loose notes found in it. Without those, my life is a disorganized mess. If I tell Mrs. Dillon what I need, is it possible for her to copy if for me?"
After a slight deliberation, he nodded.
"Thank you." As I walked past Josiah, I pointed out the spot he missed. "Don't worry. You know how I feel about family feuds. I won't tell. But make sure you get that out before Mr. Anderson sees that uniform."
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am." Josiah sighed relief.