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I sat outside the sheriff’s office in Newland, unable to make myself get out and go talk with Airhorn. I mean Sheriff Horne. Man, that was the last thing I needed to do—slip up and call him Airhorn to his face.
That morning, I’d asked Fiona if we could meet up for our midday dinner together since the sheriff worked in the same town as her hospital. Things had been tense round the house, and I wanted to do something different to help break the spell.
My heart sank when she said she never knew when she’d get a break. “Never mind, then,” I said, sounding like someone closer to Conor’s age. But I’d been counting on having something to look forward to after talking with Airhorn.
“Well, if you don’t mind waiting for my call, Rabbit.” Then she acted like she’d just thought of something. “Oh, wait. You don’t have a cell phone.” She looked so smug, I turned to walk away. She grabbed my arm. “I’ll do my best to make it by one o’clock,” she said, smiling. “But bring something to read in case you have to wait.”
Our former Deputy Sheriff Lonnie Parker had gotten a promotion, though I had no idea why. He’d never showed a bit of gumption except a time or two when he got Della some information the previous sheriff didn’t want her to have. After Parker moved to Gaston County, two women took his place, one a deputy and the other some kind of office manager. I walked toward the one with the kinder face, which happened to be the deputy.
“I’m Abit Bradshaw, and I’ve got some important information to share with Sheriff Horne.”
“He’s with someone.”
These people never gave out more information than they had to. “Can I wait?”
“Of course you can, but you may not want to. I don’t know how long he’ll be.”
I didn’t know what she was on about with that can and may business; I’d have to ask Della. But I figured since I’d screwed up my courage, I’d better wait. I sat down and pulled out a notebook, where I made some notes about what I wanted to tell him.
Airhorn wasn’t a bad guy. I’d gotten to know him when Della and I worked together to try to find that missing mother a few year ago. He’d worked hard on that case, and he was nice enough to me, mostly because Della wouldn’t have it any other way. But on this day, he made me wait over an hour. I tried being reasonable—maybe he really was busy, and after all, I didn’t have an appointment. But when he came out, no one else was in his office, and he had crumbs on his chin. Okay, we’ve all got to eat, but it was just after eleven o’clock.
“Hello, Bradshaw. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got information about the murders.”
The office woman stopped typing. The deputy’s head shot up from whatever she’d been reading.
“Did you do them?” he asked. That shook me; I felt myself jump back a little. Then he started chortling. Like that was hilarious. And of course the women tittered right along with their boss. The only consolation was they didn’t really think I’d killed anyone.
He showed me into his office and motioned toward a couple of chairs. I sat in the one opposite his desk. “So Sherlock, tell me what you’ve discovered.” He did that bunny-ear thing with his fingers round that last word, like he was just pacifying a fool. I couldn’t figure out why he was in such a foul mood. I knew if I’d been Alex Covington, he would’ve been nicer, which irritated the tar outta me. But by now I was an old hand at dealing with this shit.
“Listen, Sheriff Horne. I know you think this is funny, a man like me telling you your business. But I’m trying to save lives. Wallis Harding and I have been working hard on this, and we know when the killer will strike again, though I wished like anything we knew where.” His sneer got bigger and he actually sighed. “But me and Mr. Harding are still studying on that. Whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t worked. Just ask the families of that poor man in Kona or that woman in Ferguson.”
He nodded, letting me know he wanted me to go on, I reckoned to finish hanging myself. So I told him everything Wallis and I had come up with. I explained how we were trying to take the pattern further, to find the where and how of the next one. When I finished, I felt spent. But I looked Airhorn right in the face and waited. And waited.
After what seems like forever, he smiled a scary smile and tented his fingers under his chin. I knew I was in for it. “First, I’m sheriff of Avery County. I have no jurisdiction in Mitchell or Randolph counties. Second, you don’t know what I have been doing. And third, I don’t think much of your Nancy Drew detective work. Any questions?”
Man, that guy had a burr up his butt; I barely recognized the man I oncet knew. But I also knew I’d let Airhorn get my ire up, especially when he called me Sherlock, though I believe even Shiloh would’ve taken offense. Any way you looked at it, I’d blown my chance.
As I drove over to the hospital for dinner with Fiona, I was dreading telling her how much I’d screwed up. When I got there, the only parking place was a ways from the front doors, but I was early, so I took my time.
I was already feeling bad enough, but when the sliding front doors opened and that awful hospital smell came wafting out, my stomach did a flipflop. I didn’t know how Fiona stood it, but I guess she got used to it, like I was used to Shiloh’s finishing oil. I gave the woman at the information desk my name and told her Fiona O’Donnell was expecting me.
“Oh, Mr. Bradshaw. She left a note for you.”
I opened an envelope and took out a quickly scrawled note saying there’d been an emergency she had to help with. All kinds of things ran through my mind, wide open to hurt after the beating I’d taken from Airhorn. Then I read “And get a cell phone so I can let you know proper-like.” She drew a smiley face and signed it.
To be honest, I was relieved I didn’t have to tell her right then about me and Airhorn. As I walked back to my truck, I saw Dr. Gerald Navarro drive off in his Porsche—alone. At least one of my fears was gone: she wasn’t having lunch with him.