The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (18 page)

“What would you find
under a chair?”  Myron glanced over at Dean again, who spoke up without
hesitation.

“There was a flower
petal under there.”  My heart dropped into my stomach.

“A
what?”

“Oh yeah, the
flower,” Myron added. 
“A white flower petal.
 
Still looked alive and fresh.
 
Any
ideas how that would get in here?”
  I stood in silence.  I
knew damn well how that flower petal found its way into Arnold’s office. 
I had given Emily a white orchid that night.  The petal wasn’t there when
I left Arnold’s office at the end of the night, I’m sure of it.  “This
center has a garden,” Myron offered.  “It could have come in on the bottom
of somebody’s shoe any time, I guess. 
Probably
nothing.”

“That’s true,” I
spoke up.  “Arnold gave me a tour of the building before we ate, including
the botanical garden.  It’s possible it came in with one of us.”

“Or anyone else that
day, for that matter,” Myron added.

“Yes,” I said.
“Could’ve been anyone.”

The ride to the
Pendleton precinct was a long and quiet one.  Myron kept trying to make
chit chat but my mind kept wondering back to Arnold’s murder in
mid-sentence.  I think he picked up on my preoccupation because he finally
gave up and succumbed to the silence.  “Anybody give you an alibi for last
night?”  I finally muttered.

“Well, actually
they-”

“Asleep,” I
interrupted.  “Obviously they were all asleep.  It was late, and
everyone was at the party alone, so I assume no one has a spouse at home to
verify when they arrived.”

“Well not exactly. 
Dolores
Tilson
is married but her husband is away on
bus-”

“I guess I can vouch
for Leon, of course.  He parked in his driveway and I walked home from his
house.  I guess he could have gone back out after I fell asleep.  I
wonder how far the others live from the museum.  Are they all in Pendleton
too?”

“Well actually,
no.  I know that-”

“The
Scribbs
woman probably doesn’t live here.  She runs
the
Boyhan
Center, so she’s probably closer to her
facility.  That would explain why she was the last to arrive.  She
probably lives the furthest away.  She seemed surprised by the
extravagance of the museum too.  The fountain, the chandelier, the marble
tile was hard to miss.  You said it yourself; Curators aren’t exactly rolling
in the cash.  Have you checked out Medley’s financial situation yet,
Myron?”  Myron did not respond, but simply stared out through the
windshield breathing through his nose.  I looked out the windshield
myself, saw nothing of interest on Beech Street, and turned back to him. 
“Myron, what’s wrong?  Did you hear me?”  Myron stopped the cruiser
at the light at Beech Street and
Bires
Road and
turned to me.

“You mean I can talk
now?”

“Oh, sorry, was I
rambling?  I’m sorry, Myron.  You’re a stand-up Sheriff.  I’m
sure all of this has crossed your mind already.”  Myron smiled and slapped
me on the shoulder.

“Just
joshing
ya
, Professor.
  We’re working on his bank records to check for
any suspicious activity.  In fact, they might be back at the office by the
time we get there.”  Myron reached for his radio and pulled it to his
lips.  “Tuttle to Base, Tuttle to Base, come on back - over.”

“Base to Tuttle,
whatcha
got boss – over.” A female replied.

“Hey Jeannie, what’s
the news on those Medley statements - over?”

“Bank faxed ‘
em
over as soon as we delivered the warrant.  They’re
sitting on your desk.  Bruce wants you to call him
asap
- over.”

“Great, thanks
Jeannie - Tuttle out.”

“Base
clear.”

“Ugh,
just awful.”
I said.

“What is it?” 
Myron said, surprised.

“I can’t believe they’re
letting Bruce
Chancey
run the show over there at
Pendleton National.”

“Oh,
yeah.
  What a butt-head,
right?”

“If you think he’s a
butt-head now, you should have seen him in English Lit.  Picture a
younger,
more full
of himself Bruce
Chancey
with more hormones, less fashion sense and crooked
teeth.”

“Ugh!”  Myron
said with a shudder.  “And I thought police work was an ugly
business.”  The rest of the ride was draped in silence only broken by the
occasional snicker.

Our timing couldn’t
have been better, or worse, depending on how you looked at it.  Apparently
Leon thought it would be easier on everyone to stick together during this
tragic time, so he suggested everyone go to the precinct together to give their
statements.  It was a good idea considering Myron could have all of his
statements inside an hour if he played his cards right and kept them
talking.  Of course, the down side was clearly noticeable after Carol
Sykora
and Dennis
Trago
were
forced to spend considerable time near each other. 
“You
jealous bastard!
  You fat jealous bastard!”

“Oh please, Carol,
jealous of what?  Your lost career or your affair with the crypt
keeper!  The job was always mine!”

“We’ll see
Dennis.  When Ruskin chooses, then we’ll see.”

“You don’t sound so
sure any more, Carol.  Maybe you should have
boinked
the Mayor instead of your dead sugar daddy!”  This entire scene was
unfolding before our very eyes right in the middle of the waiting area, so of
course every cop in the precinct sauntered to the counter to eavesdrop. 
Myron and I had just walked in when the volcano erupted.  Surprise kept us
frozen on the doormats.  The glass doors behind us kept sliding open and
closed, open and closed.

“Please stop! 
Please stop!”  Dolores
Tilson
cried from a chair
against the wall.  She took off her glasses and wiped them clean with a
tissue.  I watched as her eyes watered.  Leon rushed to her side and
sat next to her.  She buried her face in his shoulder.

“For God’s sake,
Dennis, calm
yourself
. 
Both of
you, just calm down.”

“Watch
yourself
, Kinney,” Dennis said, pointing a finger. 
“You might have been his favorite but you’re sure as hell not
mine
!”  Carol’s mouth dropped open.  Tears were
streaming down her face.  Leon shot up and got nose-to-nose with the
screaming oaf.

“If I was his
favorite it was because I treated him with the respect he deserved.  You
might have noticed that if you took your lips off his ass every now and then
you loud-mouthed hippo!”  Myron and I rocked back on our feet, our eyes
open wide.  I don’t think I ever heard Leon Kinney speak in that tone in
all the years we’ve known each other.  I don’t think anyone ever has.

Myron finally
snapped out of the initial shock and rushed into the eye of the storm, plowing
himself between Carol, Leon and Dennis.  He towered over all of them and
spoke in a voice that would make God himself tremble. 
“You!”
 
He bellowed, pointing over Carol’s head to an officer behind the counter. 
“Take this one into Room One,” he ordered, pointing at Carol.  “You take
this one into Room Two,” he ordered, pointing to Dennis.  The precinct
fell silent, but no one moved. 
“
Now
!”
He
screamed, and I saw the precinct windows shake in their panes.  The two
officers finally got moving.  They rushed from around the counter, grabbed
their charges and hustled them in separate directions. 

Myron turned to
Leon, who was breathing very fast.  I shuffled forward and grabbed him on
the shoulder.  Leon jumped a little, but then sighed with relief when he
recognized me.  I guided him back to the chair next to Dolores, who was
sobbing into a handful of tissues.  Myron turned again to face his
troops.  All at once, they stood up straight as arrows and stared at the
top of his head. 
“Back to work!”
  With
that, the troops backed up, stumbled about, and pretended to go back to
whatever they were doing before we arrived.

Myron kneeled in
front of us and took a handkerchief out of his back pocket.  His face was
red and covered with moisture.  He wiped his brow and took a deep
breath. 
“Sorry ‘bout that, folks.
  Believe
it or not, the anger management classes have really mellowed me.”  Dolores
giggled under her sobs and weeps.  She pulled her face out of her hands to
reveal two very red and wet eyes.

“Oh jeez, I’m
sorry,” she said, sniffling.  “I’ve been crying all day.”

“It’s alright,
ma’am,” Myron said, now speaking in a voice that was soft and comforting,
especially for a man that just shook the foundation of the building.  “Mr.
Kinney, can I talk to you for a minute?”  Leon looked at me, and I
nodded.  He stood up, as did Myron.  They walked over the counter and
spoke softly. 

I moved into Leon’s
chair and put a hand on Dolores’ shoulder.  She wiped her glasses again
and put them on.  “This is so terrible, Mr. Hunt,” she said, staring at
Leon and Myron.  “Who could do such a thing?  He was a good
man.  I was his assistant for over seven years.  He was one of the
best.”

“I didn’t know him
very well, but he definitely seemed like a fine man.  I’m sorry I didn’t
get the chance to know him as well as you did.”

“He liked you too,
Mr. Hunt.  He went on and on about you last night.”  I shifted in my
seat, my curiosity peaked.

“When was that?”

“After
the party.
  A few miles away
from the museum, I remembered that I pass the caterers
everyday
on my way to work.  I turned around and went back for the dessert
cart.  I figured I would swing by the caterers on Monday morning and drop
the cart off.  When I went in, I was surprised to see Arnold still there,
but there he was in his office combing through some papers.  That’s when
we started talking about you.”  Dolores finally turned to look at
me.  “He liked you very much.  I’m glad he had such a good time
before he…he-”

“It’s alright,
Dolores.  Breathe, just breathe.”  She took two deep breaths and
looked back into my eyes.  “Oh, what’s that, Dolores?”  I asked,
pointing to her glasses.  I saw her eyes shift behind the lenses. 
Her right eyeglass lens was warped and sticking out of the frame, and a very
pronounced crack streaked across it.

“Oh, that,” she
said, pulling them off her face and holding them up to the light. 
“Accidentally sat on them last night after I got home.
 
This is actually the third pair I’ve crushed.”

“That’s a
shame.  Dolores, what time did you get back to the museum?”  She
replaced her glasses on her face and looked back up at Myron and Leon.

“It was about a
quarter after eleven, I guess.”

“And he was okay
when you left?”

“Yes, he was
fine.  We were talking about you, and then I grabbed the cart and rolled
it outside to the car.  
Couldn’t have been later than
eleven-thirty when I left the second time.”

“You got that cart
into your car all by yourself?”

“Well, now that you
mention it, he did offer.  He was reaching for his overcoat when the phone
rang, so I told him not to bother.  He was still on the phone when I came
in to say goodnight, so I just left.”

“Someone called the
museum at eleven-thirty at night?  How did they know he was there?”

“Beats
me.
  I didn’t hear who it was
or what it was about.  Do you think that’s important?  I didn’t think
about most of this until just now.  I didn’t know he was going to…going
to…”  Her eyes watered up again.

“
It’s
okay, it’s okay.  Make sure you tell all of this to Sheriff Tuttle.” 
She nodded and sat back in her chair, took another deep breath and turned
towards the window.  A moment later, Myron and Leon came back.

“Ms.
Tilson
?  I’m going to start with you so Leon can get
you home.  Thanks for coming in Mr. Kinney.  I’ll have two of my
boys
drop the others home when I’m through with them. 
Ms.
Tilson
, please come with me.”  He
outstretched a massive hand.  Dolores took it and stood, as did I. 
They walked behind the counter together into a forest of deputies and
secretaries and disappeared.

Leon and I sat down
and he once again resembled the man with whom I’ve spent half of my
career. 
“You alright?”
  I asked him.

“Yeah, I’m
fine.  Sorry you had to see that.”

“See what?  You
get upset or see a hippo in business casual wear?”  He laughed and leaned
back in his chair.  “So, what did you tell Myron?”

“The
truth of course.
  I got us
home a little after eleven, went to bed.  I didn’t kill my boss and I
don’t know who did.”