MY AIM IS TRUE (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 2) (5 page)

At the end of the day, I locked up and exited through the back door. It was 6:05, and the sun was just slipping behind the taller trees. As I crossed Third Street, I saw Deputy Jimmy pull his cruiser into the police parking space at the station. After he’d unlocked the station door and disappeared inside, I decided to stop by and congratulate him on his interim appointment. After all, I’d certainly felt my spirits lifted when members of the community came out to wish me well.

I pulled on the heavy glass door and saw Deputy Jimmy leaning over the counter, making some notations on a clipboard. He looked up when he saw me, an expression of uncertainty on his face, as if he weren’t sure whether to smile or hop over the counter and escape.

“Hello, Officer Jimmy. Or should I call you Chief Lee?”

My question only deepened his confused expression. After pondering it for a few moments, he responded, “Either way’s fine with me. Just plain ol’ Jimmy’s what most folks call me.”

“Plain Old Jimmy,” I smiled. “I like that.” I held out my hand to shake. “Plain Old Jimmy, I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion, or appointment, whichever it is. And everybody I’ve talked with feels the same way:  we’re glad that you’re in charge.”

“They are?” he asked, lunging forward and shaking my hand. “Really? Well, that makes me feel good. Thank you.” He looked down sheepishly, and then added, “I guess I should also thank you for this opportunity. If it weren’t for you….”

“You deserve all the credit, Jimmy. You must have had the patience of a saint to….”

A radio behind the counter squawked, startling both of us. Jimmy stretched his long frame and picked up the mic.

“Central Dispatch,” said the radio voice. “We have a report of a hunting accident in your vicinity. Prepare to copy details, over.” Jimmy jotted down the information. I was surprised that radio systems like this were still in use. I’d have thought everything was digitized by now, although I could see its value as some sort of back-up system. Anyway, listening to the dispatcher’s information, I had a rough idea of the location. It was near the lake, but wasn’t familiar to me. It must have been private property.

“Roger. Out.” Jimmy looked at his notes and pulled on his key ring. “Sorry, Miss Reed, but I’ve got to lock up. I’m the only one here.”

“I understand,” I said, stepping quickly out the door. A part of me wanted to ask if I could ride along. Of course, I knew that that idea was thoroughly bone-headed, but then I thought that maybe I could run home, get in my car and follow him. Instead, I just said, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Deputy Jimmy replied, striding purposefully toward his car. His bumper banged on the street as he backed out of the drive. He stopped at the stop sign, turned on his flashers and siren, and roared away. The sun had nearly set.

My first thought was, ‘Well, accidents are bound to happen when you’re hunting’. But then I thought of Gary and Chrissie out there somewhere, and that hit me on a personal level. I also remembered Chrissie saying that she hoped Gary didn’t accidentally shoot her.

That would be terrible! Chrissie was at that onward-and-upward spot in her life, and I wouldn’t want anything to derail that. And if it was Gary who was injured…that would also be tragic. Once again, I felt the stirring of those unfamiliar feelings towards him. Viewing my old friend within a fresh context – dating a much younger woman, possibly being injured or worse – seemed to bring out feelings for him that I didn’t know I’d had.

An even worse possibility crossed my mind: Molly Spencer! Molly hadn’t come to the library after school, which had been her routine since long before I’d been hired. Had she gone hunting with Cat and her “mentor” Justin?

I desperately needed information. When I got home, I checked the
Crawford Caller
’s website for information, but there was only a scant entry, most likely gleaned from a police scanner, along with an assurance that more details would be provided when they became available.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night.

***

The next morning, before leaving for work, I checked a local news site for any updates on the hunting accident. It took nearly four minutes to play the minute-long piece, due to Mom’s less-than-stellar download speed, but it was worth the wait.

“Officials at Crawford Community Hospital have confirmed that the victim of yesterday’s hunting accident succumbed to her injuries and was pronounced dead at 7:15 last night. Her identity hasn’t been released, pending notification of her family, and at this point little else is known. The Lake Hare Police Department released a statement saying only that the circumstances of the accident are being investigated, as is routine for any hunting fatality. We’ll continue to follow this story and will update our viewers when more information is available.”

The report at least confirmed that the victim was a female, which eliminated Gary Van Dyke, but to learn that the victim had died only made me more anxious to learn her identify. I wanted to at least remove Molly from my list of potential victims, and I thought it might not be her since it wouldn’t be necessary for authorities to contact next-of-kin as her mother would have most likely been with her, but that wasn’t foolproof.

I resolved to periodically check for updates and hoped that a patron might pass along some information, even if it wasn’t from an official channel.

The day crept along slowly with no additional information forthcoming from any source. The few visitors to the library all made a point of mentioning it as they checked out materials, and expressed how awful it was, but nobody knew anything other than what they’d read or heard on television.

When Margaret arrived at 11:00, she wasted no time in bringing up the subject.

“I have a friend at Crawford Community Hospital, and even she won’t say anything,” she said excitedly, albeit quietly. “Not that I was snooping, but I just happened to call her, and she said the administration was very strict about giving out that sort of information. She said if someone had heard on a scanner where the accident had happened, and knew someone who was hunting at that location, any information, including the age of the victim could compromise their confidentiality. You know, someone could put two and two together, and the next thing you know, the victim’s family hears about it before it’s been confirmed. I never thought about that, but I guess it makes sense.”

“You’re absolutely right about that, Margaret,” I replied. “I guess it won’t be much longer before the family is contacted and we’ll get some details. Feel free to browse the computer for updates, if you’d like,” I offered, standing so she could take my place at the front desk. That enticed her to perch and immediately stare raptly at the news page up on the screen. Before she was lost to me forever, I leaned over to whisper. “I’ve got some errands to run before lunch. Will you be okay here if I leave now?”

Margaret just nodded, her eyes glued to the screen.

Perfect. Now I could skedaddle down to the police station and see if Deputy Jimmy had any information that he was keeping to himself.

***

Nearing the police station, I saw that my timing was good: Deputy Jimmy’s patrol car was parked in his assigned spot. Just as I reached for the door, it swung open and I stood face-to-face with Peter Proctor, ace reporter for the
Caller
.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Melody Reed,” he leered. “What brings you here?”

“That would be my business, wouldn’t it?” I sniffed.

He chuckled, unruffled by my rude response. I had a hunch that he was used to such condescension.

“Your amateur detective instincts got the better of you, didn’t they? You just couldn’t resist seeing what you could worm out of Deputy Lee, eh? Well, good luck with that. Either he’s the tightest-lipped cop I’ve ever met, or he’s so out of his depth that he’s scared to open his mouth. Any bets as to which it is?”

“Did he tell you anything?” I asked. I don’t know why I expected him to share information with me, but I didn’t see any harm in asking.

“Name, rank and serial number; that’s about it.” Peter intentionally stood blocking the doorway as we bantered. Was he trying to keep me a captive audience for his taunts, or was there something else he wanted? “But I’ve found that if you can’t get the facts from one source, you just try another. I’ve already been to the hospital and learned a few things. Maybe something you’d be interested in.”

“Such as?” I asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

He looked me up and down. “You’re a pretty resourceful lady, Miss Reed” he said. “Could be that the deputy would confide in a local more than he would a reporter. Can I count on you to share with me anything that you might find out? Of course, I would do the same.”

I considered his proposition. Basically, his offer implied that I would have to be willing to broadcast to the entire area anything I might learn. That wouldn’t bode well should someone choose to take me into their confidence.

“I’m sure I’ll read all about anything you should uncover, Mr. Proctor. Now, if you’ll excuse me….”

He stepped aside, holding the door for me. “Have it your way, Miss Reed. But remember, I’m always available to you if you turn something up.”

I was relieved to find that Mr. Proctor was the sole representative of the Fourth Estate on site. I’d half-expected a veritable “media throng” to be milling about in the lobby, shouting questions while flashbulbs seared the eyeballs, the way they used to do in the movies. The lobby was, in fact, completely deserted. I reached around the counter door and felt for the lock release and buzzed myself in.

I spied Jimmy sitting at a desk in the back office. He looked up at the sound of the buzzer, and seeing it was who it was, flashed that same expression of uncertainty I’d seen yesterday. Clearly, I would need to gain his trust.

“Hi, Jimmy. Do you have a moment?” I said, making my way toward one of the two chairs facing his desk.

“Hello, Miss Reed. Pardon me for not getting up. I am so dog-tired!” Jimmy was holding a large, plastic bag with a strange-looking arrow inside it. “I hardly got any sleep last night. I was at the hospital most of the night. Came back here to catch a couple of winks on a cot in one of the cells, and then back up before the sun rose, the phone ringing off the hook. What a mess!”

“I can’t imagine,” I replied. “Don’t you have any help?”

“Well, there’s Fred, our part-timer, but his arthritis has been flaring up, so he’s going to the doctor today. And Margaret covers the phones before and after she works for you at the library. Other than that, it’s just me.”

I glanced down at the baggie. “Is that…?”

Jimmy followed my gaze, and looked surprised that he was still holding the bag. “Oh…yes. The hospital removed it from the victim. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to pull it out or what, but I just didn’t think it was a good idea. Jack Casady, from the DNR, agreed. He’s seen more hunting accidents than I have, and he said it’s best if the medical people extract it.”

“Jack Casady,” I repeated. I find that saying the name immediately after I first hear it helps me to remember it. “So he was at the scene with you last night?” I asked.

“Yeah, Central Dispatch contacted his office, along with the EMTs.”

Somehow I felt relieved that Deputy Jimmy wasn’t the only person on-site last night. I wanted to learn more about the particulars, but first I needed to clear up my personal concerns.

“Jimmy, I know you may not be able to say much right now, and I certainly don’t want to pry, but I was concerned that the victim might have been someone I know.”

“I know, Miss Reed. There’s a lot of people in the same boat – and a lot of ‘em called first thing this morning – but we’ve gotta wait till all the t’s are crossed before we can make a statement, like I just  told that reporter.”

“I understand. Perhaps you can tell me who it
wasn’t
, then,” I suggested. “You see, Cathy Spencer mentioned that she was going hunting with her daughter, Molly, and I was afraid it might be one of them.”

“They were both there – at the site, I mean – but no, it wasn’t either of them.”

“I’m so relieved. And then Chrissie Appleton was also supposed to be hunting yesterday.”

“I know Chrissie, but she wasn’t there,” Jimmy said. “And no, it wasn’t her, either. Does that help?”

“Extremely,” I sighed. “Thank you so much, Jimmy.” I followed his gaze toward the arrow in the baggie. It was a nasty, lethal looking thing, smaller than a normal arrow. The sharp tip was dark with dried blood and metal blades protruded from the base of the tip. “So how exactly did it happen, the accident?” I asked, trying to keep my tone conversational. “Or can’t you say?”

“There’s not that much to tell,” Jimmy replied, “or at least, not much that I can tell you at this point. A group of people were allowed to use their employer’s land and facilities to turkey hunt. They’ve got some little cabins out there, and it’s private property, so they don’t have to worry about other hunters. But then, someone got shot with this here arrow.” He patted the baggie.

“Actually, it’s called a bolt,” he said, correcting himself, “or so I’m told. It’s used in crossbows.” I couldn’t help wincing at the thought of a high-powered arrow piercing someone’s flesh. “And this here is what they call a broadhead tip. Those blades open up inside the wound. I don’t hunt, but Jack Casady kinda schooled me on it last night.”