smooth. He sounded a little like Carter Paragon himself, I thought.
“I was trying to make an appointment,” I said.
“Why?”
“I'm a lost soul, looking for guidance.”
“If you're trying to find yourself, maybe you should go look someplace else.”
“Wherever I go, there I am.”
“That's unfortunate.”
“I've learned to live with it.”
“Doesn't seem to me like you have much choice, but Mr. Paragon does. If he doesn't want to see you, then you should accept that and be on your way.”
“Do you know anything about Grace Peltier, Detective Lutz?”
“What's it to you?”
“I've been hired to look into the circumstances of her death. Someone told me that you might know something about it.” I let the double meaning hang in the air for a time, its ambiguity like a little time bomb ticking between us. Lutz's fingers tapped briefly on his belt, but it was the only indication he gave that his calm might be under threat.
“We think Ms. Peltier took her own life,” he said. “We're not looking for anyone else in connection with the incident.”
“Did you interview Carter Paragon?”
“I spoke to Mr. Paragon. He never met Grace Peltier.”
Lutz moved a little to his left. The sun was behind him and he stood so that it shone over his shoulder and directly into my eyes. I raised a hand to shade myself and his hand nudged for his gun again.
“Ah-ah,” he said.
“A little jumpy, aren't you, Detective?” I lowered my hand carefully.
“Mr. Paragon sometimes attracts a dangerous element,” he replied. “Good men often find themselves under threat for their beliefs. It's our duty to protect him.”
“Shouldn't that be the job of the police here in Waterville?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Mr. Paragon's secretary preferred to contact me. Waterville police have better things to be doing with their time.”
“And you don't?”
He smiled for the first time. “It's my day off, but I can spare a few minutes for Mr. Paragon.”
“The law never rests.”
“That's right, and I sleep with my eyes open.” He handed my wallet back to me. “You be on your way, now, and don't let me see you around here again. You want to make an appointment with Mr. Paragon, then you contact him during business hours, Monday to Friday. I'm sure his secretary will be happy to help you.”
“Your faith in her is admirable, Detective.”
“Faith is always admirable,” he replied, then started to walk back to his car.
I had pretty much decided that I didn't like Detective Lutz. I wondered what would happen if he was goaded. I decided to find out.
“Amen,” I said. “But if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to stay here and read my magazine.”
Lutz stopped, then walked quickly back to me. I saw the punch coming, but I was against the car and all I could do was curl to one side to take the blow to my ribs instead of my stomach. He hit me so hard I thought I heard a rib crack, the pain lancing through my lower body and sending shock waves right to the tips of my toes. I slid down the side of the Mustang and sat on the road, a dull ache spreading across my stomach and into my groin. I felt like I was going to vomit. Then Lutz reached down and applied pressure from his thumbs and forefingers just below my ears. He was using pain compliance techniques and I yelped in agony as he forced me to rise.
“Don't mock me, Mr. Parker,” he said. “And don't mock my faith. Now get in your car and drive away.”
The pressure eased. Lutz walked over to his car and sat on the hood, waiting for me to leave. I looked over at the Paragon house and saw a woman standing at an upstairs window, watching me. Before I got back into the car, I could have sworn that I saw Ms. Torrance smile.
Lutz's white Acura stayed behind me until I left Waterville and headed north on I-95, but the pain and humiliation I felt meant that the memory of him was with me all the way to Ellsworth. The Hancock County Field Office, home of Troop J of
“I was trying to make an appointment,” I said.
“Why?”
“I'm a lost soul, looking for guidance.”
“If you're trying to find yourself, maybe you should go look someplace else.”
“Wherever I go, there I am.”
“That's unfortunate.”
“I've learned to live with it.”
“Doesn't seem to me like you have much choice, but Mr. Paragon does. If he doesn't want to see you, then you should accept that and be on your way.”
“Do you know anything about Grace Peltier, Detective Lutz?”
“What's it to you?”
“I've been hired to look into the circumstances of her death. Someone told me that you might know something about it.” I let the double meaning hang in the air for a time, its ambiguity like a little time bomb ticking between us. Lutz's fingers tapped briefly on his belt, but it was the only indication he gave that his calm might be under threat.
“We think Ms. Peltier took her own life,” he said. “We're not looking for anyone else in connection with the incident.”
“Did you interview Carter Paragon?”
“I spoke to Mr. Paragon. He never met Grace Peltier.”
Lutz moved a little to his left. The sun was behind him and he stood so that it shone over his shoulder and directly into my eyes. I raised a hand to shade myself and his hand nudged for his gun again.
“Ah-ah,” he said.
“A little jumpy, aren't you, Detective?” I lowered my hand carefully.
“Mr. Paragon sometimes attracts a dangerous element,” he replied. “Good men often find themselves under threat for their beliefs. It's our duty to protect him.”
“Shouldn't that be the job of the police here in Waterville?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Mr. Paragon's secretary preferred to contact me. Waterville police have better things to be doing with their time.”
“And you don't?”
He smiled for the first time. “It's my day off, but I can spare a few minutes for Mr. Paragon.”
“The law never rests.”
“That's right, and I sleep with my eyes open.” He handed my wallet back to me. “You be on your way, now, and don't let me see you around here again. You want to make an appointment with Mr. Paragon, then you contact him during business hours, Monday to Friday. I'm sure his secretary will be happy to help you.”
“Your faith in her is admirable, Detective.”
“Faith is always admirable,” he replied, then started to walk back to his car.
I had pretty much decided that I didn't like Detective Lutz. I wondered what would happen if he was goaded. I decided to find out.
“Amen,” I said. “But if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to stay here and read my magazine.”
Lutz stopped, then walked quickly back to me. I saw the punch coming, but I was against the car and all I could do was curl to one side to take the blow to my ribs instead of my stomach. He hit me so hard I thought I heard a rib crack, the pain lancing through my lower body and sending shock waves right to the tips of my toes. I slid down the side of the Mustang and sat on the road, a dull ache spreading across my stomach and into my groin. I felt like I was going to vomit. Then Lutz reached down and applied pressure from his thumbs and forefingers just below my ears. He was using pain compliance techniques and I yelped in agony as he forced me to rise.
“Don't mock me, Mr. Parker,” he said. “And don't mock my faith. Now get in your car and drive away.”
The pressure eased. Lutz walked over to his car and sat on the hood, waiting for me to leave. I looked over at the Paragon house and saw a woman standing at an upstairs window, watching me. Before I got back into the car, I could have sworn that I saw Ms. Torrance smile.
Lutz's white Acura stayed behind me until I left Waterville and headed north on I-95, but the pain and humiliation I felt meant that the memory of him was with me all the way to Ellsworth. The Hancock County Field Office, home of Troop J of
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