The Hen of the Baskervilles(49)

I didn’t pull out my notebook to write that down, though. No danger at all I’d forget it.

Maybe a little danger that I’d fall asleep before I got a chance to do anything about it. I suddenly yawned, and realized that I was tired enough to fall asleep sitting up.

I was still awake, though barely, when the two deputies, Vern and Plunkett, came striding toward me.

“Chief in there?” Vern asked.

“With Molly,” I said.

“He’ll want to see this,” Plunkett crowed. “Show her the gun, Vern.”

“Gun?”

Vern frowned, but Plunkett didn’t seem to notice.

“Found it in the killer’s van,” Plunkett said.

“Suspect’s van,” Vern corrected. He was on his phone. “Chief? We found a gun in the back of Ms. Riordan’s van.… Okay.”

Plunkett reached for the door, but Vern caught his arm.

“Chief says wait,” Vern said. “He’ll be a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Plunkett looked around, and spotted the activity over at the gate. “Give a yell when he’s ready for us. Can’t wait to see his face when he sees what we found.”

He ambled off toward the floodlights.

“‘What we found.’” Vern didn’t sound his normal, easygoing self. “I know we’re supposed to make nice, keep peace between the counties, but you want to know what really happened?”

I nodded.

“We were both searching the van. I started at the front end, Plunkett took the back, while Fred worked on the tent. I was still doing the glove compartment when Plunkett announced that he was going to go have a smoke. Didn’t seem like he’d had time to do more than glance into the back, so I just worked my way through the whole thing from front to back. Found the gun under the floor mat in the back.”

He shook his head in disgust.

“’Course now he claims he wasn’t finished searching—just taking a smoke break. Tried to get up in my face about trespassing in his part of the van. Wouldn’t shut up until I promised I wouldn’t tell who found the gun—just that we found it.”

“A promise you’re already breaking, apparently.”

“Actually, he only made me promise not to tell the chief.” Vern rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say anything about not telling anyone else. Including someone who might happen to let the truth slip to the chief.”

“So you actually want me to pass the word along.” I was puzzled. Vern and the chief seemed to have a good working relationship.

“I did promise not to tell him,” Vern said. “But I think he needs to know. ’Cause I think Plunkett has an ulterior motive here. I know this probably sounds crazy, but I think he wants a job in our department.”

“I didn’t know you were hiring.” In fact, given the county’s troubled financial state, I’d thought the sheriff’s department, like every other department, was tightening its belt and postponing any new hires.

“We will be after the first of the year,” Vern said. “Bill’s retiring, and Jamal’s going back to college full time to get his MBA. Even in these times, that’s more downsizing than we need. We’ll be hiring.”

“Cool,” I said. “But if I were looking to get hired by the chief, I think I’d work a little harder on not ticking him off.”

“I don’t think Plunkett sees it that way. I bet he thinks he’s impressing the chief with his initiative. And that if the chief thinks he was the one smart enough to find the murder weapon, he’s a shoo-in.”

“So you think the gun you found is the murder weapon?”

“It’s a twenty-two,” he said. “We won’t know for certain till they do all the forensics, but I saw the wound, and I’d be surprised if anything bigger than a twenty-two made it. And the gun’s been fired recently. I can tell that all by myself, from the smell. Maybe it’s a good thing I did find it. It’s hard enough to get fingerprints from a gun to begin with, and if Plunkett had found it, he’d have covered up any we could find with his own.”

“And fired it, once or twice, just to see if it works,” I suggested.

“Don’t laugh; he probably would have,” Vern said. “Where do they find clowns like him?”

Just then I spotted an ambulance lurching slowly up the dirt road. No flashing lights or siren, but the headlights alone would wake a few people in the barns. Vern followed my glance and shook his head when he saw the ambulance.

“Poor guy,” Vern said. “I feel bad.”

I looked up, startled. For a moment I thought was saying that he was ill and needed an ambulance, too. But he wasn’t clutching his heart or anything, just frowning slightly.