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Thomas Ball and Assistant D.A. Wallen arrived back at the District Attorney’s Office at the same time.
Hawke stood as the two walked through the door. He’d had plenty of time sitting in the waiting area to figure out how he planned to deal with Ball.
“Trooper Hawke, you’ve been spending a lot of time in this office lately,” Ms. Wallen said, walking toward her door.
“This office is in the middle of a homicide investigation.” He’d decided while sitting and waiting, to not pussyfoot around. They needed answers and he was tired of trying to not step on any toes.
Ms. Wallen glanced at Lange’s office. “Does he know you’re onto him?”
Hawke stared at her. “I’m on to all of you.”
She didn’t flinch but her gaze started to flit toward Ball before she caught herself. “That’s choice.” She laughed and disappeared into her office.
Hawke shifted his gaze to Ball. “I’d like to have a word with you, in private.”
The man narrowed his eyes, but he opened the door to his office and walked in.
Hawke followed and closed the door behind him.
Ball sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, and propping his feet on the desktop. He looked about as relaxed as a cougar getting ready to pounce on its prey.
“Tell me what you know about Sigler’s death.” Hawke sat in the chair in front of the desk.
“Nothing.”
Even though he wasn’t on duty, Hawke pulled out a logbook. It was one he kept in his personal truck for when he came across accidents. He’d put it in his pocket before entering the courthouse. “I know you met last night with Ralph Bremmer at High Mountain Brewery. I also know he was telling you that D.A. Lange killed his friend Duane Sigler.”
Ball’s feet flipped off his desk. He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the desk top. “How do you know that?”
“I followed Bremmer. I had a suspicion he was trying to get the money Sigler owed him by doing his own blackmailing.” Hawke shook his head. “But when he contacted you...I wasn’t sure what was going on.”
“He called me. Said he had information on my boss.” Ball raised his hands. “I technically have two bosses. The D.A. and Ms. Wallen. So I went. Lange and I go back a long time. When Bremmer started saying he knew Sigler was blackmailing Lange and that he’s the one who had to have killed his friend, I pretended I believed him and I’d see what I could do.” He shook his head. “Frankly, I figured if you cops hadn’t come after Lange by now, then you must not have hard evidence and Bremmer was blowing out his ass.”
Hawke studied the man. He was lying through his teeth. So many little tells. His eyes didn’t stay on Hawke as he talked. His voice tremored slightly as he tried to hide...anger. And his middle finger on his left hand, tapped ever so slightly. He was nervous. If what he said was the truth, he wouldn’t be nervous.
“What woman picked you up at the brewery about two a.m.?”
It worked. The man slammed back into the chair. “What woman? What are you talking about?”
“I have a witness who saw you get into a mustang with a woman after the brewery closed.” Hawke closed his logbook. “What woman picked you up?”
“It wasn’t me. I went home alone as usual.” His gaze was over Hawke’s shoulder and his finger was twitching on the arm of the chair.
There was a reason he didn’t want to name the woman. Hawke decided to take a walk around the courthouse parking lot. See if there was a mustang parked anywhere. After he asked Ms. Wallen if she’d picked up Ball.
Hawke stood and shoved the logbook back in his pocket. “If Bremmer contacts you again, I want to know about it.”
He left the investigator’s office, walked to the Assistant D.A.’s door, knocked, and walked in.
“You’re making a habit of interrupting my work.” Ms. Wallen stopped typing on her keyboard and glared at him.
“Where were you at two a.m. this morning?” he asked.
“In bed asleep. Where every sane person would be.” She shifted her attention to her computer.
“You didn’t pick Ball up in the High Mountain Brewery parking lot?”
Her fingers stopped pecking at the keyboard. She peered at him. “Why would I pick him up? He’s a big boy and knows how to call a cab if he drinks too much.”
Hawke wondered why neither one would admit they had been together last night. “Thank you.” He left her office, waved to Terri, and stepped out into the hallway.
A thought struck him and he walked back into the D.A.’s office.
Terri’s eyes widened. “Back so soon?”
“Who’s the biggest gossip in this building? Or would see the most that goes on?” he asked.
Terri grinned. “That would definitely be Earl Gehry. He’s the custodian.”
“Where would I find him this time of day?”
“Try the basement boiler room. Bottom of the stairs, first door to the right.”
Hawke nodded and headed to the basement.
Standing outside the boiler room, the sound of 40s and 50s country music could be heard.
Hawke opened the door and found a man nearing his eighties, reclining in a beat-up old chair, smoking a cigar, reading a Zane Grey novel, and an old record player spinning a 78 on the table by his chair.
“Mr. Gehry?” Hawke said, approaching the man. He walked up to within four feet of the man before he was noticed.
“Oh! My!” Mr. Gehry grasped the front of his shirt. His mouth opened and closed like a fish seeking air. His book and cigar landed in his lap.
Hawke retrieved both and turned off the music. The volume on the player was all the way up.
“Mr. Gehry, are you okay?” Hawke asked.
“What are you doin’ sneakin’ up on me?” The man finally caught his breath.
“I wasn’t sneaking. I knocked, then I called your name.”
“Well, it’s sneakin’ when you about scare the life out of me.” He shoved the footrest down on the chair and stood. “What are you looking for me for?”
“I wondered if you could give me some insights into the people who work in the courthouse?” Hawke pulled out his badge.
The man stared at it for some time. “Why do you want to know about people who work here?”
“It’s for a homicide investigation.”
The man nodded. “That would be Duane Sigler.” Gehry shook his head. “That man was lucky he lived as long as he did, flirting with the law like that.”
“Any ideas who killed him?” Hawke asked, leaning a hip against the wooden workbench.
Gehry walked over to a gurgling coffee maker. “Want a cup? I came down here for a coffee break. I always read while I wait for this old dinosaur coffeemaker to finish.”
Hawke held back a snicker at the old man calling the coffeemaker, that was a newer vintage than him, a dinosaur. “If you have extra.”
The man poured two cups and unfolded a chair hidden behind the boiler. “Have a seat.”
When Hawke was settled on the chair, Gehry handed him the cup of coffee.
Gehry settled back in his recliner and sipped his coffee. Finally, he said, “If I had to pick someone, I’d say either the man he was thrown in jail with or the D.A.”
Hawke leaned forward. “Why do you say the D.A.?”
“It’s been a few months ago, I seen a letter sitting on the top of the mail I picked up to take to the post office. It was addressed to Duane. I thought it odd that it was coming from the D.A.’s office when I hadn’t heard or seen that he was in any trouble with the law. Then one evening, I was cleaning the D.A.’s office. Mr. Lange was still in his office, but his door was open and he was the only one there when his phone rang. I was picking up trash and started to walk in until I heard him say, ‘I didn’t send you a tag. You blackmail me and I’ll see you never blackmail anyone else.’” Gehry studied Hawke. “His voice was low and hard. At that moment, I could have seen him get rid of his blackmailer.”
This was new. Lange never told him about the call. He’d have to go back over Sigler’s phone records and see when the man had called him. And if he didn’t, who had.
“Do you remember at all when this call was?” Hawke pulled out his logbook.
“I empty the trash Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday on the second floor. Most Saturday’s Lange is the only one in the office if there is anyone. But he doesn’t stay until evening. So it was a Tuesday or Thursday.”
He made a note to check and see who called Lange on the Tuesday evening Sigler was shot. It could have been the person setting him up. Hoping he’d go see Sigler to be at the scene of the crime.
“What can you tell me about Thomas Ball and Ms. Wallen?”
The old man’s gray eyebrows shot up and a conspiratorial smile turned the ends of his thin lips. “I caught those two goin’ at it out in the parking lot a couple times. And they were both in the men’s room on the second floor one day when I went in there to clean.”
As he’d thought. “Do you know what Ms. Wallen drives?”
“Yeah, that dark blue mustang. They were in the back seat of that one day.” The old man shook his head. “You’d think they could wait long enough to get to a bedroom. Dang young people these days think they have to move on a feeling the minute it strikes. There is so much more pleasure when you have to wait.” His eyes glazed over, and he was off in another decade.
Sorry to break up his memory, Hawke cleared his throat. When the man focused on him, Hawke asked, “Is there anyone else in the courthouse that is hiding a relationship?”
“There’s Lange and Mrs. White. Why they are hiding, I don’t know. They’re both single since Lange’s wife dumped him for that assistant, Travis.” He scratched his head. “And there’s the young woman in the records office who has been meeting an older man behind the courthouse every day at noon. They drive off in a nice car, and he brings her back at five ’til one.”
“What can you tell me about the Lange break up?” He was interested in the people around the D.A.’s office.
“I caught Mrs. Lange and Travis kissing several months before Mrs. Lange told her husband she wanted a divorce.”
“And how did Travis and Mr. Lange get along before the marriage broke up?”
“Seemed to work well together. Travis was apologetic for taking Lange’s wife.”
“How did Lange take that?” Hawke asked.
“Not well. He was pretty grouchy for quite some time after the two left. It was Mrs. White who seemed to break through his anger and sadness.” Mr. Gehry nodded his head. “And he hasn’t really gotten along with Ms. Wallen. They butt heads nearly every day.”
“That has to make Lange’s job stressful.” Hawke wondered once again at the relationship between the D.A. and his assistant. He’d learned the man took Ms. Wallen on as a favor to a friend, but making one’s life miserable every day seemed like a lot to do for a friend.
Gehry nodded. “My break’s over. Is that all?”
“Yes. Thank you for the coffee and the information.” Hawke left the boiler room, ascended the stairs to the first floor, and exited through the back door.
There in the parking spot next to Lange’s SUV, sat a blue mustang.