“Were they local murders?” I said. “Or murders of wealthy, well-known people from outside the county? Did they take place during an event already crawling with reporters? Did you have a trial that lasted weeks and weeks?”
I hoped he wouldn’t realize that I was exaggerating both Brett’s reputation and the level of press coverage the fair had achieved so far. He blinked a couple of times. Then the deputy whispered something in his ear. The two of them took a few steps away, turned their back on us, and held a truly whispered conversation. Unlike me, they weren’t trying to be overheard. Then they turned back to us with wide mud-eating grins on their faces.
“I think we can work this out, Chief,” the sheriff said. “Seeing as how Caerphilly is the larger county—not to mention the more effluent—I could see my way clear to letting you take the lead on this investigation. On one condition.”
“And that would be?” The chief didn’t look like a man willing to grant conditions, but just the fact that he answered was progress.
“I’d want you to include a representative from Clay County on your investigationary team,” the sheriff said. “I’ll assign Deputy Plunkett here to do that.”
“Not to interfere, of course.” Plunkett gave us an oily smile. “Just to keep what lawyers would call a ‘watching brief.’”
The chief hesitated for a few moments, studying Plunkett. I could tell he didn’t like the idea. I suspected Plunkett was the sheriff’s right-hand man—maybe even the brains of the department. I wouldn’t want to bet on him sticking to a watching brief if he saw a way to put one over on Caerphilly. But I decided if it were my case, I’d probably want Plunkett where I could keep an eye on him, not running around by himself. I could almost see the moment when the chief decided the same thing.
“That would be acceptable,” he said. “Provided the deputy is willing to stick to being an observer, without interfering in any way with the conduct of our case.”
He didn’t emphasize the “our,” but it was there.
“Long as Plunkett can report back to me about anything he observes that he thinks I’d like to know about.” The sheriff looked pleased with himself.
The chief nodded tightly.
“Then we have ourselves a deal,” the sheriff said. “If y’all aren’t letting me work the case, I’m going to go back to my bed.” He turned to Plunkett. “He needs some manpower from us, you help him out, now, you hear?”
Plunkett nodded.
The sheriff turned and ambled away with more speed and less noise than you’d have expected from someone of his age and size.
Chief Burke watched him as the sheriff slowly disappeared into the fog. He didn’t look as happy as I thought he would.
Chapter 18
When Sheriff Dingle was completely out of sight, the chief appeared to rouse himself from thought and turned briskly back to the rest of us.
“Vern,” he said. “Get that perimeter going. Coordinate with Deputy Plunkett on the other side of the fence.”
“Yes, sir.” Vern glanced at Plunkett, then stepped a few paces away and took out his cell phone. Plunkett smirked a bit, but pulled out his cell phone.
“Meg, Michael’s gone to fetch your father. Is there any chance that your cousin Horace is in town for the fair?” the chief asked.
“How come her family all get called to the crime scene?” Plunkett asked.
“Dr. Langslow is the local medical examiner.” The chief’s tone was so even that an outsider like Plunkett probably had no idea how ticked off he was. “And Horace Hollingsworth is a highly experienced crime scene examiner who does forensic work for us under a longstanding arrangement with the York County Sheriff’s Department. We are fortunate that his family ties to some of our citizens give us access to a forensic investigator of his caliber.”
Plunkett shrugged elaborately and turned back to his cell phone.
“Horace is in town.” I was already pulling out my phone. “I’ll round him up.”
The chief nodded.
“Debbie Ann,” he said into his phone. “Call everyone back on duty. With my apologies, but we’ve got a murder here.”
I had reached Horace’s voice mail and left a message to call me back as soon as possible.
“I understand the deceased was one of the exhibitors?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “His soon-to-be-ex-wife is an exhibitor. Molly Riordan of Leaping Goat Farm in the vendors’ barn. And his new girlfriend, Genette Sedgewick, has a booth in the wine pavilion.”
“Lordy,” he said. “Any idea where either of them would be?”