he’d heard something significant. Then he turned to Gilsum. “I don’t have any more questions for him right now.”
Gilsum nodded. “Me, neither.” He stood up, then looked down at Calhoun. “We might need to talk to you again. You’re not planning to go anywhere?”
“Just to the shop. Probably have another guide trip or two coming up. I’ll be around.”
“I understand your dog ran away.”
“Ralph would never run away,” said Calhoun.
“I meant, he’s missing.”
Calhoun nodded.
“Well,” said Gilsum, “I hope nothing happened to him.”
“That’s what’s got me worried,” said Calhoun.
The two started to walk away. Then they stopped and Gilsum came back to where Calhoun was sitting. “We’re trying to keep a lid on this,” he said.
“This?” Calhoun waved his hand around indicating his property.
“What happened tonight.”
“Good,” said Calhoun.
“So don’t talk to any reporters,” said Gilsum.
“Don’t worry about me,” said Calhoun.
After a while, an emergency wagon pulled into the yard, and a couple of men went up onto the deck. A few minutes later, they came bumping back down the steps with a big plastic bag strapped on a gurney. Calhoun was pretty certain the bag contained Paul Vecchio’s body. The men rolled the gurney over to the wagon, collapsed it, slid it into the back, slammed the doors shut, and drove off.
Calhoun sat there on his boulder while the forensic techs hustled into and out of his house. The uniformed state trooper leaned against the side of his cruiser more or less watching him, but he didn’t insist that Calhoun get back into the backseat. Dr. Surry had left after she finished talking with Calhoun. Gilsum and Enfield and Sheriff Dickman hung around the yard talking with each other. Once in a while one of them would talk on his cell phone. A couple of times a tech came out of the house and spoke to them.
They all ignored Calhoun, which was fine by him.
Calhoun guessed it was a few minutes before midnight when they all started climbing back into their various vehicles and driving away.
Gilsum came over to where Calhoun was sitting and said, “You can go inside now.”
“I expected you’d have that yellow crime-scene tape draped around my house for a week.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“I don’t watch TV at all, actually,” said Calhoun. “If you looked around in there, you’d see I don’t own one.”
“Well, whatever,” said Gilsum. “We’re all done, anyway.”
Then he got into the cruiser, and the trooper slid behind the wheel, and they drove off.
The sheriff was the last one to leave. He seemed pretty anxious to get going. He didn’t have much to say, and Calhoun wondered whether he’d changed his mind and decided that Calhoun might’ve shot Paul Vecchio after all.
He just said he hoped Ralph showed up, and they’d be in touch.
Then he left, and Calhoun was alone.
He went up to the deck. The floodlights lit the area like daylight, and Calhoun noticed that some black blood had seeped into the wooden seat of the Adirondack chair where Paul Vecchio had been sitting. He wondered how long it would take for the weather to wash away the stain.
His .30-30 was lying there on the table where he’d left it.
He stood at the railing and yelled for Ralph.
After a while he picked up the Winchester and went inside. The forensics people had moved around some chairs and left several drawers and cabinet doors open. Otherwise there was no evidence that people had been prowling around in there.
He closed the drawers and doors and pushed the chairs back to where they belonged. Then he found an apple in the refrigerator and a box of raisins in one of the cabinets. He poured himself a glass of water, went out on the deck, and had supper at the table.
Still no Ralph.
He went back inside and got the automatic coffeemaker ready for the morning. Then he made Ralph’s supper and filled his water dish and put them out on
Gilsum nodded. “Me, neither.” He stood up, then looked down at Calhoun. “We might need to talk to you again. You’re not planning to go anywhere?”
“Just to the shop. Probably have another guide trip or two coming up. I’ll be around.”
“I understand your dog ran away.”
“Ralph would never run away,” said Calhoun.
“I meant, he’s missing.”
Calhoun nodded.
“Well,” said Gilsum, “I hope nothing happened to him.”
“That’s what’s got me worried,” said Calhoun.
The two started to walk away. Then they stopped and Gilsum came back to where Calhoun was sitting. “We’re trying to keep a lid on this,” he said.
“This?” Calhoun waved his hand around indicating his property.
“What happened tonight.”
“Good,” said Calhoun.
“So don’t talk to any reporters,” said Gilsum.
“Don’t worry about me,” said Calhoun.
After a while, an emergency wagon pulled into the yard, and a couple of men went up onto the deck. A few minutes later, they came bumping back down the steps with a big plastic bag strapped on a gurney. Calhoun was pretty certain the bag contained Paul Vecchio’s body. The men rolled the gurney over to the wagon, collapsed it, slid it into the back, slammed the doors shut, and drove off.
Calhoun sat there on his boulder while the forensic techs hustled into and out of his house. The uniformed state trooper leaned against the side of his cruiser more or less watching him, but he didn’t insist that Calhoun get back into the backseat. Dr. Surry had left after she finished talking with Calhoun. Gilsum and Enfield and Sheriff Dickman hung around the yard talking with each other. Once in a while one of them would talk on his cell phone. A couple of times a tech came out of the house and spoke to them.
They all ignored Calhoun, which was fine by him.
Calhoun guessed it was a few minutes before midnight when they all started climbing back into their various vehicles and driving away.
Gilsum came over to where Calhoun was sitting and said, “You can go inside now.”
“I expected you’d have that yellow crime-scene tape draped around my house for a week.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“I don’t watch TV at all, actually,” said Calhoun. “If you looked around in there, you’d see I don’t own one.”
“Well, whatever,” said Gilsum. “We’re all done, anyway.”
Then he got into the cruiser, and the trooper slid behind the wheel, and they drove off.
The sheriff was the last one to leave. He seemed pretty anxious to get going. He didn’t have much to say, and Calhoun wondered whether he’d changed his mind and decided that Calhoun might’ve shot Paul Vecchio after all.
He just said he hoped Ralph showed up, and they’d be in touch.
Then he left, and Calhoun was alone.
He went up to the deck. The floodlights lit the area like daylight, and Calhoun noticed that some black blood had seeped into the wooden seat of the Adirondack chair where Paul Vecchio had been sitting. He wondered how long it would take for the weather to wash away the stain.
His .30-30 was lying there on the table where he’d left it.
He stood at the railing and yelled for Ralph.
After a while he picked up the Winchester and went inside. The forensics people had moved around some chairs and left several drawers and cabinet doors open. Otherwise there was no evidence that people had been prowling around in there.
He closed the drawers and doors and pushed the chairs back to where they belonged. Then he found an apple in the refrigerator and a box of raisins in one of the cabinets. He poured himself a glass of water, went out on the deck, and had supper at the table.
Still no Ralph.
He went back inside and got the automatic coffeemaker ready for the morning. Then he made Ralph’s supper and filled his water dish and put them out on
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