Part 7 (1/2)
”I need you to come to the station to answer some questions, Ms. James.”
”OK, well I'm free later this afternoon, maybe around 4:00?”
”Now.”
”Can't we just talk here?”
”I don't think you want that.”
”Fine.” I tossed my head with what I hoped was arrogant innocence, but to tell the truth, I felt a little green around the gills. Gary Wohnt and I silently walked the two blocks to the Battle Lake Police Station. The three-room brick building was stifling. The open windows allowed in the pizza-oven hot air of the late morning, and the lazy ceiling fan circulated it down into my face.
”Why don't you have a seat, Ms. James.” It was not a question.
I pulled up the metal chair with a screech and sat down so I was facing Gary Wohnt across his desk. I was going to outlast him. He had nothing on me. I would stare him down, one mask of control to another. We might be here for days, but I would not talk.
”I didn't take Wenonga. I was only there on Friday morning because I noticed he was gone. I was going to tell you but I was worried you'd think I had something to do with stealing him. I wouldn't steal him. I loved him. Those were my fingerprints on the one post, but that was just an accident.” Dammit.
Wohnt sighed and closed his eyes for ten long seconds, his fingers forming a teepee over the bridge of his nose. ”That's not why I asked you to come here today, Ms. James. You are here because two hours ago, a dead body was found in Jonathan Leeson's cabin on Silver Lake, and you were the last confirmed person seen in Mr. Leeson's company.”
s.h.i.+t. He was up to date. ”Why aren't you out there now?”
”There are officers on the scene. In fact, the FBI has been called in. I would like to be able to present as much information as possible to them when they arrive. You can help me with that.” He leaned back in his chair, but his posture did not give an inch. ”Do you know where Mr. Leeson is right now?”
I knew where he told me he was going to be. Visiting his grandma in Stevens Point. However, I was very sure that was not where he was. ”Did you ask his mom?”
”Mrs. Leeson said she believed her son was staying at the cabin for the night and does not know his current whereabouts.”
”Do you know whose body it is?”
”We haven't positively identified the body. What did you and Mr. Leeson visit about at Stub's last night?”
”Ummm, gardening mostly.”
”Are you dating Mr. Leeson?”
I snorted involuntarily. ”No.”
”I think it'd be best if you submitted a set of your fingerprints.”
”Right now?”
”Yes.”
”Do I have to?”
”We would look favorably upon it if you did.”
”Do I have to?”
”I highly recommend it.”
”Do I have to?”
”No.”
I took a deep breath. ”Then I think I'll go. OK?”
”Don't go far.”
I was walking toward the door, worried that Wohnt was going to change his mind about letting me go but unable to stop the question leaking out my mouth. ”The body you found. Was it missing part of its scalp?”
Gary Wohnt had closed his eyes again, so I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but for a second, it sounded like there was humor in his voice. ”Yes. It was.”
As I pushed outside into the hairy wall of heat, my head was reeling, and it didn't stop until I entered the door of the Fortune Cafe. The cool air laced with ginger and chocolate brought my anxiety down a notch. I would get to the bottom of this. The whole Battle Lake world was in a steaming latrine, and I needed to fix it. Not to save anyone else, mind you, but for my own peace of mind and so the cops would leave me alone. I'd find the Chief, and Bill Myers, and discover why Dolly and Johnny had hidden a body in his cabin for me to find. Those who had messed up would pay. I squared my shoulders and walked up to the counter and directly into the l.u.s.ty path of Brando Erikkson's gaze. He stood from his two-chair table and strode toward me.
”Mira! Two run-ins in under twenty-four hours. Fate must be bringing us together.”
”It's a small town,” I grumbled. ”It's gravity bringing us together.”
”Ha ha! Will you join me?”
I looked around the tiny cafe, dominated by a large gla.s.s display case leading to the kitchens in back. It was lunch rush, and there were no empty tables. I poked my head around the corner to the game room and library and still saw no place to sit. I considered getting some coffee to go, but reminded myself of my newfound commitment to get to the bottom of things. That included talking to Brando to find out what he knew. I might as well do it in public, in the daylight. ”Sure.”
I started to walk toward the counter, but Brando put his arm on mine. ”I'll get it. What would you like?”
I sat down reluctantly. ”An iced coffee and a cinnamon scone would be fine, thank you.” I grudgingly admired his very tight rear as he walked toward the counter. Too bad he gave me the creeps. My brain stayed quiet until he returned.
”Here you go.”
”Thanks.”
Brando set the coffee and scone in front of me, but instead of sitting at the chair across the table, he stood, leaning into it. ”You didn't come to my party last night.”
I sipped the sweet, cool coffee and felt it slice through some of the fog on my brain. ”I was tired. I went home.”
”Too bad. It was a great time. Good music, good drinks, hot men.” He winked at me, and stretched his hands over his head like a cat in a sunbeam.
”Great.”
”Yes, this is a nice little town you have here. The woodchuck is going to fit in real nice.”
I coughed on a piece of scone. ”I was going to ask you about that. Why a woodchuck?”
Brando smirked and ran a hand sinuously up his own thigh and stroked his chest through his s.h.i.+rt. He placed one foot on his chair, giving me a full view of his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.e cleavage. I was pretty sure he was about ready to ask me to cup his b.a.l.l.s when I realized what he was doing. He was flirting with himself, with me as his audience.
”Can you please sit down? It's hard to talk to you when you're standing.”
Brando looked slightly taken aback, and then disappointed, but he plunked down. ”You're a feisty one.”
”Not so much. Bitter is probably a better word. So why the woodchuck? Why not another Chief Wenonga?”