From the Grounds Up (16 page)

The county--I should have guessed. Our cops were outfitted to ticket out-of-town speeders and direct traffic after church, not bust a drug ring.

'Listen,' I said, digging out my car keys, 'I'm going to see what I can do for Sarah. Would you,' I pointed at Ronny, 'take care of things here?'

'Of course.' He pulled on his collar. 'You can count on me.'

'I know I can.' I glanced around. 'Is there a rear exit? I'm parked in the lot.'

Good thing. If I'd parked on the street in front, Sarah's car would have T-boned mine. Of course, then the porch might have been saved.

'Use the boarding platform door.' Ronny hooked a thumb around the corner of the ticket counter.

I took his advice and exited at the back corner of the building. I was not only close to my car, but also had avoided the men on the porch.

That didn't stop Brady, though, from glaring at me as I pulled past him in the Escape.

'I can't understand why that man doesn't like me,' I said to Pavlik after I'd filled him in. I was sitting in the guest chair in the sheriff's office, my handbag next to his brass nameplate. 'Sarah was the one who threatened to lop off his weenie.'

'Brady doesn't like you because Heckleman doesn't,' Pavlik said mildly.

'Heckleman? The cop who arrested Sarah?'

'Yup.' Pavlik steepled his fingers. 'They're . . . tight.'

'Are you saying they're gay?' I asked bluntly. 'Because if they are, it's no one's—'

'I know, I know. But they're not. And you are the proud mother of a gay son.' Pavlik cracked a grin. 'Rightfully. Eric's a good kid.'

Pavlik and Eric are . . . well, tight.

'So what
did
you mean,' I said, ashamed of myself, 'about Heckleman and Brady. They're friends?'

'More mentor and mentee,' Pavlik said. 'Brady wants to move into law enforcement. He haunted me for a while after I arrived in Brookhills. Now he's turned his attention from the county sheriff's department to town police force. Hangs around any cop who'll let him.'

Pavlik shrugged. 'I think Heckleman realizes now that he shouldn't have encouraged the guy, but he doesn't see how to shake him.'

'Why would he want to go from fire department to law enforcement?'

'The Brookhills Fire Department is volunteer. The guys don't work full-time and are paid peanuts in comparison to the risks.'

'What's the "volunteer" part, if they're paid?'

'It's different in each town or city. In Brookhills they have salaried firefighters and supplement the force with guys,' he looked at me, 'and gals, who have other jobs. They're paid, but only for the hours they work.'

'And they don't have benefits, I'll wager.'

'Not health insurance, disability. Nothing.'

I could see why Brady would want to change professions. And why he might follow Heckleman's lead. The guy was sucking up. However, what I didn't get: 'So what does Heckleman have against me?'

Understand, I'm the kind of person who needs to be liked. Even by people I detest.

'Nothing,' Pavlik said. 'Heckleman doesn't like anyone.'

I'd make it my mission to change that. If I ever ran into him again.

Which made me wonder whether I'd ever see Sarah again.

After leaving the depot, I'd called Pavlik. He said Sarah would likely be brought to the building we were sitting in. The Brookhills Police Department was so tiny they used the county's jail and booking facilities.

I gestured toward the phone on his desk. 'Can you call and see what's happening?'

Pavlik shook his head. 'I confirmed that Sarah is in the building and I asked to be kept up to date. I can't interfere, even if she is a friend.
Especially
if she's a friend.'

'This is ridiculous,' I said, repeating what I'd told Pavlik earlier. 'Sarah does not do cocaine.'

'I'm sure you're right. If so, the drug test will confirm that.'

Pavlik didn't seem to notice the inconsistency. If he was so 'sure,' why the 'if'?

'You can't blame the officers for suspecting, though,' Pavlik continued. 'According to Heckleman, Sarah's nose was red and she was sniffing. Classic symptoms of recently snorting cocaine.'

'Or of crying,' I said, exasperated. 'You know how much Sarah loved that car. The woman was sobbing like someone had killed her dog.'

'Sarah Kingston?' Pavlik looked surprised. 'Crying?'

'You'd believe Sarah did drugs before you believed she was capable of crying?'

Pavlik cocked his head. 'Well, yeah. Pretty much. You?'

Maybe if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.

I didn't answer the question. 'Sarah's nose was running because she cried. First, Courtney and Sam left her and now it's the Firebird.'

As I said that, I realized that everything Sarah loved was indeed gone. Though I hoped she liked me. Sort of.

'I'd forgotten about the kids,' Pavlik said, leaning back in his chair. 'How's it going?'

'Sam and Courtney were in touch every day,' I said. 'Until you put Sarah in the slammer. Now, what happens to them?'

'I didn't put Sarah in jail,' Pavlik reminded me. 'She'll be tested for drugs. If the results come back clean, they'll likely let her out.'

'Likely?'

'Probably.' Pavlik looked uncomfortable. 'It depends on what they find in the car.'

'But if Sarah doesn't use cocaine—'

'It doesn't mean she doesn't sell it.'

'A dealer?' I couldn't believe my ears. 'You think Sarah's a pusher?'

He held up his hands. 'Again, I don't think anything. The car is being checked. If they find the substance is cocaine, then they'll check for amounts. If it's more than simple possession, I'm afraid—'

This time, I interrupted. 'Wait a second. You don't even know if it
is
cocaine?'

'Like I said, I don't—'

'I know, I know, you don't know anything. Yet. Including that there actually
was
a drug in the car? That's ridiculous.'

I warmed into my rant: 'How can you arrest someone for being caught with something, when you don't even know what that "something" is?'

A character trait of Pavlik: the crazier I get, the calmer he is. Until we reach his boiling point. Then he blows. I feared I was edging close to the top of his thermometer now.

His eyes became a stormy gray. 'I
assume
that the officers detained her on suspicion of possessing a controlled substance.'

'Heckleman made fun of me when I said "detained",' I muttered. More proof he didn't like me. 'So what if that "controlled substance" turns out to be baking soda, or baby powder, or, or . . .'

I stopped.

Then took a deep breath and let the piece fall perfectly into the puzzle.

Chapter Seventeen

Pavlik gave me an odd look. 'So we'll apologize and release her. You have to understand what's at stake with all the drugs on the streets. Sure, mistakes are made, but we can't—'

'Wait, wait.' I waved my hands for him to stop.

He did.

I said, 'Flour.'

Pavlik seemed confused. 'Flower? The kind you plant?'

'No, the kind you bake with.' I leaned forward. 'Art Jenada is the caterer across from the train station. He was making biscuits when I rousted him for help after Sarah's car crashed into the depot.'

'And?'

'I know Jenada had flour on his hands when he was nosing around the car, because when I shook hands with him afterwards, I got it all over me.'

'At least your jeans.' Pavlik pointed to where I'd wiped my palms. 'I was wondering where that came from.'

Guess I should be grateful that
I
wasn't being drug-tested.

'Anyway,' I continued, 'I think he got flour in the car when he was looking at it.'

'But on the seat?'

'Sure, if he leaned in.'

Pavlik looked doubtful now, but almost immediately his phone rang. He picked up.

The sheriff listened for a while and pulled a pad toward him. Said, 'uh-unh,' 'uh-huh,' and a couple of two-syllable sounds that could have been either positive or negative. He jotted down a few words, then asked the person on the other side of the conversation to repeat something. Which he wrote on a corner of the page.

Finally he hung up. 'Sarah is being released.'

I nearly leapt from my chair. 'See? I told you she wasn't a druggie.'

'And you were absolutely right,' Pavlik said. 'Sarah tested negative for cocaine and any other illegal substance.'

I thought the sheriff was tempted to say more. Instead, though, he slid my handbag toward me. 'You might want to meet her. She should be downstairs in a couple of minutes.'

'Sounds good.'

When Pavlik came around the desk, I flung my arm around his neck and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Want to come over for dinner tonight?'

He hesitated. 'Maybe you should have dinner with Sarah. As you say, she's having a rough time.'

'That's very considerate of you.' I studied Pavlik's face. 'Is everything OK?'

'Sure.' He gave me a peck back. 'Just got a lot on my mind. I'll call you tomorrow.'

'How about dinner then?'

Another hesitation. 'I'll let you know.'

'Great.' I wound my hand through the strap on my bag, not sure what to do.

There had been a distinct change in the atmosphere of the room. Had I done something to push the sheriff over the cliff? Asked one too many questions? Tripped over one too many bodies?

Or was Pavlik just, like the old joke goes, 'sick of my shit'.

I didn't want to ask, but I knew I'd drive myself crazy if I didn't. 'You said everything was OK. Did you mean with you, or did you mean with us?'

'Both.' He took a step toward me and drew me into his arms. This time when we kissed, it felt like we meant it.

Pavlik moved me back, hands on my shoulders so we could be face to face. Or as near as possible. Pavlik is considerably taller than I am. My head fits perfectly on his chest for slow-dancing.

I looked up at him. 'We're fine?'

He smiled and his eyes flared blue. 'We're better than fine.'

'So what happened?' I knew I hadn't imagined it. God knows I'd imagined enough things to appreciate the difference.

Pavlik sighed. 'I can't go into specifics, but I think you should keep an eye on Sarah. I said no to our having dinner because it would free you up to see her.'

'So I guess I should have asked if
Sarah
is OK.'

'You told me yourself that she's not, remember?' He gave me a playful shake. 'She
cried
today.'

He was right. Sarah was not herself and I knew it, no matter how much she tried to hide it. And the really worrisome thing was that she
wasn't
trying to hide it anymore.

'A cry for help,' I said and then felt myself blush. 'Sorry, a little dramatic.'

'But maybe not inaccurate.' He squeezed me again and then released me. 'Go get Sarah. She shouldn't be alone.'

'She won't be.' I turned around at the door. 'She'll have yours truly.'

'Leave me alone,' Sarah growled as she stomped past me, her shoes making slapping noises on the marble floor of the chair-lined lobby where I'd been waiting

I trailed after her. 'I'm just trying to help.'

Sarah turned to face me. 'Help? All I asked you to do is call Mario and you couldn't even pull that off. I don't need your help, Maggy. I need my car. Or whatever's left of it.'

'Triple-A was there," I said. "The tow truck is probably pulling the Firebird off the porch as we speak. I didn't think Mario--'

'That's right,' Sarah snapped. 'You didn't think. Nobody touches my car but Mario.'

Assuming no psychic link, I didn't quite see how Sarah could know I hadn't called her mechanic. I didn't bother to ask, though, since we were already drawing the attention of everybody waiting in the lobby as well as the uniformed and armed sheriff's deputy behind the desk. I put my hand on Sarah's back in an attempt to guide her outside.

'Don't touch me," she said, smacking my hand away and, thankfully, heading for the door. 'I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.'

'You mean when you were searched?' I was just following her now, trying not to say the wrong thing. At least until we were safely off the premises.

'Searched? Yes, searched. Twice. And ordered to stand here, sit there, turn right, then left, face the camera, get fingerprinted.' She stopped just outside the door and held up a shaky hand to show me her blackened pads. 'I have to get this ink off.'

Poor Sarah. The invasion of her personal space--the radius of which was already twice that required by most people--seemed to freak her out more than the accusation of drug possession.

I started to put my hand on her shoulder again, but caught myself. Instead, I dug through my bag and handed her a small bottle.

'Waterless hand-cleanser?' She unscrewed the cap and worked the liquid into her hands. Didn't do much for the ink, but the process seemed to make her feel better. 'Where did you get this? Steal it from Christy?'

'Hey, she's not the only one who's hygienic.'

Sarah re-capped the bottle and squinted at the label. '"Good until October ninety-nine?"'

I snatched the cleanser away from her. "This stuff doesn't go bad."

'Says you,' Sarah said, thankfully sounding less shaky. 'It's probably "Bacterial Cleanser" now.'

'Instead of
anti
-bacterial? Cute.'

Truth was, the stuff had probably been in my handbag since I worked in the health room of Eric's grade school. Not the
same
handbag, you understand. The contents of the old got dumped into its successor, with the bags getting progressively larger to accommodate. Finding stuff was akin to an archeological dig. I didn't delve too deep, lest I stumble on the primordial ooze at the bottom.

We had reached the parking lot and Sarah looked around.

'My Escape is next to the tree over there,' I said, indicating the vehicle.

'I don't need a ride. Ronny's across the way getting our building permits.' Sarah cocked her head. 'And why are you being so nice?'

'
Trying
to be nice,' I corrected. 'You're not exactly making it easy. And how do you know Ronny's here?'