The Hen of the Baskervilles(48)

“You got a spare pair of them things?” he asked.

Vern rolled his eyes, but Fred pulled another pair of gloves out of his pocket.

“I’ll go back to the fairgrounds with the chief,” I said, and then hurried to catch up to the chief and Molly. It didn’t feel like a good night for wandering around alone. The chief didn’t say anything when I joined them. In fact, neither of them said anything until we drew near the fair office. We could see that activity was still ongoing over at the site of the murder, and someone had set up a couple of portable floodlights to illuminate the area.

Molly stumbled, and I glanced over to see that she was staring fixedly at the circle of light.

“Is that where…?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Let me open the trailer for you,” I said to the chief.

I unlocked the office, stepped in, and flicked on the light switch. We were in luck—the power was working tonight. The overhead fluorescents made the trailer seem stark, industrial, and almost grim. Or maybe that last part was my mood.

“You might want to use my desk,” I said.

The chief glanced at the two desks. Mine wasn’t exactly empty, but the papers were in neat stacks and the assorted desk tools were grouped in square wooden baskets. Of course, in the few weeks since we’d set up the fair office, I’d actually spent quite some time working here, while Randall seemed to use his desk only as a place to store stuff.

“I make sure it’s easy to clear away so we can use it as a table when we have meetings.” I was clearing away as I spoke. The papers went into more baskets, and then all the baskets went onto a series of shelves on the wall behind the desk. In a few minutes, the desk was empty except for a desk lamp and a well-filled pencil holder.

The chief nodded his approval and held a chair for Molly.

“Want me to start the coffee machine before I go?” I asked.

“Please,” the chief said. “And thank you for your help.”

I turned on the machine, threw a packet of coffee in, and added the water.

“All yours,” I said as I exited the trailer.

I glanced at my watch. A little past two. My patrol shift was over. Technically, I could go to bed, but I wasn’t sure I could sleep.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Michael.

“Over here by the crime scene,” he said, without my even asking. “Standing by to help with crowd control if needed. Was that you going into the fair office?”

“Letting the chief in so he can question Molly.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

We fell silent. If I glanced over toward the spotlighted crime scene, I could make out his silhouette. That was strangely comforting. As was the thought that the boys were across the fairgrounds from all of this.

“Early patrols are all off duty,” he said after a while. “Couple of them are still hanging around here, trying to rubberneck. The graveyard shift patrols are all making their rounds. Though it’s a good thing they’re not armed. Or at least I hope they aren’t. Most of them are jittery as hell.”

“I told them if I caught anyone with a weapon I’d have him arrested,” I said. “No guarantee they listened.” In fact, I knew at least one of the Shiffleys hadn’t, but he’d been discreet, and I wasn’t planning to cause trouble for him. Maybe he’d been a better judge of the dangers of his post than I’d been. “Look,” I said aloud. “I’m going to stay here for a little while. If the chief lets Molly go, she’s going to need someone.”

“And if he doesn’t let her go?”

“No idea.” With that we hung up.

Randall and I had put a small bench just outside the door of the fair office. I took a seat. If the chief came out, I could tell him I was watching the door for him. And I could keep an eye on what was happening at the crime scene without being close enough to see the details. I’d already seen way more of the crime scene than I wanted, and didn’t plan to go near the gate again until the EMTs took away Brett’s body. I wondered how soon that would be.

And how soon would the chief release the scene? Did I need to talk to Randall about rounding up some workmen to arrange a detour—another gate through the fence to let people into the Midway?

I pulled out my notebook and scribbled it on my to-do list.

After I put the notebook away, I thought of another task. I’d need to make sure someone cleaned up the area around the gate. Bad enough that people would be gawking at it once they heard what had happened there. No way I’d let anyone near it until there was nothing to see but an ordinary wooden gate in an ordinary split-rail fence.