Archie Goes Home

Chapter 20

The police allowed both Kiefer and me to drive our own vehicles to the police headquarters, although we had to follow close behind their patrol car with its flashing lights, which made for a poor man’s parade through the downtown streets, drawing curious looks from pedestrians.

Our motley little entourage pulled up in front of the police station, an unimpressive one-story brick structure that I recognized from my youth, although I never had occasion to be inside. We trooped in, Kiefer in the lead, followed by me and then Mutt and Jeff, the unmatched pair of young coppers. They never drew their weapons, apparently seeing the two of us as harmless.

Hardly surprising, Kiefer and I did not speak to each other. He held a handkerchief to the nose I had bloodied, and I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder where his right had landed.

I regretted, at least slightly, having baited Kiefer back in the bar, but then, I didn’t expect the violent reaction that resulted, although maybe I should have, given what Katie Padgett had told me about him and his volatility. It seemed the man was like a grenade ready to discharge.

“We’ve got a couple of would-be prizefighters here,” the tall cop said to the bald desk sergeant, who wore a bored expression. “My guess is that the chief would like to meet them.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here,” the sarge said with a world-weary sigh, picking up a phone and muttering something into the mouthpiece. He hung up and said, “Okay, go on back and see him.”

Blankenship’s quarters were about what I would have expected of a small-town top cop’s office: bare walls; a single window looking out onto a parking lot; a three-drawer gunmetal filing cabinet; a neat maple desk with a framed color photograph of his wife and two young children; and a plaque that read Chief Thomas Robert Blankenship.

The chief had his head down as he signed a small stack of papers. Finishing the last one, he looked up grim-faced, first at me and then at Kiefer, shaking his head.

“I recognize them both, for different reasons,” he said to his cops. “This one” — he indicated Kiefer — “has been here on at least a couple occasions. He can’t seem to control his temper. You boys have brought him in before, the last time was after he got into a fistfight with the driver of a grocery truck just off the courthouse square. It was when—”

“I got cut off!” Kiefer yelped. “That idiot almost rammed me!”

“Mr. Kiefer,” Blankenship said in a patient tone, steepling his hands, “if that had been the only incident you were involved in, I wouldn’t be terribly concerned. But a pattern seems to have emerged here. Is there anything you care to tell us about what happened in that bar tonight?”

“This guy” — Kiefer gestured at me with a thumb — “kept jabbering to me. He wouldn’t shut up.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“Uh... well, not in so many words.”

“Tell me what ‘not in so many words’ means,” Blankenship said, still in his father-confessor mode.

Kiefer shifted from one leg to the other, still dabbing at his bloodied noise. “Well, he wanted to talk about Logan Mulgrew’s death.”

“Did he now? Any idea why he happened to pick you to discuss that subject with?”

“No, not really.”

“Had you ever met this man before?” the chief asked, gesturing at me.

“Never, not once.”

“Did you know Logan Mulgrew?”

“I had met him.”

“What was your opinion of the man?”

“I didn’t like him,” Kiefer said with a snarl.

“Any particular reason why that is?”

“My daughter worked for him at the bank at one time, and he, well... he wasn’t very nice to her.” I could tell Kiefer was working to rein in that volatile temper.

“Do you mean that he was abusive?” Blankenship asked.

“I don’t want to say any more.” Kiefer folded beefy arms across his chest and stuck out his chin.

The chief leaned back in his chair and sighed, clasping his hands behind his head. “So let me see if I can get this straight: This gentleman here, who you claim that you never met, began talking to you about Logan Mulgrew, and you got irritated and started a fight with him. Do I have an accurate version of events?”

“Uh... pretty much,” Kiefer said. I could tell he wanted to sit down even more than I did, but Blankenship’s method was to keep both of us on our feet.

“Do you have anything else to say?”

My erstwhile sparring partner looked down at the floor and shook his head. “No, nothin’,” he mumbled.

“You have caused trouble on several occasions in the past, Mr. Kiefer, and each time you have received only a warning,” Blankenship said. “And I am going to give you this one final warning, sir: the next time you find yourself in this building because of your actions, you will be slapped with a fine or jail time — or both. Have I made myself clear to you?” Kiefer said nothing.

“Is that clear, Mr. Kiefer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now get out of here, and heaven help you if I see you in my office again!”

As Kiefer shuffled out and shut the door behind him, Blankenship turned to me. “Somehow, I knew I would be meeting you again, Mr. Goodwin. Are you one of those people trouble follows?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” I said, gripping my throbbing shoulder.

The chief leaned forward in his chair and considered me. “You believe Logan Mulgrew was murdered, don’t you?”

“His death seems suspicious,” I stated, easing into the guest chair in front of the chief’s desk without being asked. He did not object.

“I am afraid that on this subject, we must agree to disagree, Mr. Goodwin. But being open-minded, I would like to hear your reasons for believing Mulgrew’s death was a murder.”

“I did not say that he definitely was murdered, I said his death was suspicious — in fact, very suspicious.”

“Tell me just what makes this death so suspicious, Mr. Goodwin.”

“Of course, I never met Mulgrew, but it didn’t take me long to learn that he was an extremely disliked man. He made numerous enemies in this corner of the state. His calculated rumormongering caused one man’s bank to collapse almost before it got started and ruined his life in the process. He foreclosed on a farmer and also all but ruined his life and his livelihood. He is said to have abused another man’s daughter and possibly gotten her pregnant. He openly carried on a relationship with his wife’s caregiver as she, his wife, lay dying. How’s that for starters?”

“You are a private detective of some note, sir. Do you have a client in the Mulgrew affair?”

“I do not.”

“So should I assume that you have become interested in Mr. Mulgrew’s death as a simple matter of professional curiosity? That would seem to be most high-minded and noble of you.”

“Don’t try to make me out to be something I’m not,” I told him. “But when I smell a rat, there is usually a rat in the area. I should also add to my narrative that those people I mentioned who have reason to dislike Logan Mulgrew also had openly expressed their anger toward him before his death.”

“For someone so recently arrived here, you seem to have amassed an impressive storehouse of information about our community,” the chief observed dryly. “Would one of your sources just happen to be a young woman journalist?”

“I have talked to several people about the Mulgrew death.”

“A diplomatic answer. You mentioned earlier the abuse of one man’s daughter and her possible pregnancy. Would that man be Eldon Kiefer?”

“It would.”

“Which would at least begin to explain why you were in Charlie’s Tap tonight. Do you suspect him of Mr. Mulgrew’s murder?”

“He certainly is one of the people who had reason to dislike Logan Mulgrew. Make that people who had reason to intensely dislike the man.”

“All right, I will not dispute the fact that Mulgrew was not popular with a number of folks,” Blankenship said. “That’s on one side of the ledger. On the other side, which I happen to subscribe to, is that the man was mourning the loss of his wife of decades, which understandably could lead to a suicide.”

“However, in the months following Mrs. Mulgrew’s death, her husband hardly behaved like someone in mourning,” I countered. “From what I have been able to ascertain, he showed no signs whatever of depression, rather the contrary.”

“I consider that to be circumstantial evidence of his moods,” the chief said.

“Perhaps. What are your thoughts about the gunshot fired into the apartment of Miss Padgett?”

“As I have previously stated, I believe it to be the work of someone who had been overserved and unfortunately chose to let off steam with a firearm. For the record, although it is hardly any of your business, we dug that shell from the wall of Miss Padgett’s apartment, and it did not match the caliber of the bullet that killed Logan Mulgrew. I believe I told you this already as well.”

“Well, I also ask you again, is it usual for gunshots to be discharged in the middle of town?”

The chief shifted in his chair. “You keep harping on this. It’s the first time it’s happened since I have been in this office. But I still believe it to be a coincidence. Mr. Goodwin, I will be candid. Your meddling is not welcome here. Although I do not know your mother well, I happen to have great respect for her based on our limited contact with each other. I would hate to have her embarrassed by your behavior.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I prefer to think of it as a warning.”

“Consider, then, that I have been warned.”

“Your attitude does not comfort me, Mr. Goodwin.”

“I am sorry to hear that. Do you plan to charge me?”

“Not at the moment. I believe Mr. Kiefer must bear the brunt of your contretemps with him.”

“You certainly know how to use the language, Chief.”

“It may surprise you to learn that I am a college graduate. Not all policemen are like the ones you probably are used to in New York.”

“Big-city cops happen to come in all shapes, sizes, and levels of education and intelligence. I try never to place people in boxes.”

“That is good to know. What do you plan to do now, Mr. Goodwin?”

“In what way?”

“What I mean is, are you intent upon continuing this investigation of Logan Mulgrew’s death?”

“I have yet to be persuaded that the man was not murdered.”

Blankenship pressed his palms over his eyes, perhaps wishing that when he opened them I would be gone. “If I find that you are in any way impeding the work of the department, I will take action. So far, I have avoided a confrontation, in part because of my respect for your mother. But I warn you that I will not hesitate to take you into custody if I find that you’ve become a public nuisance.”

“Public nuisance? Just what does that charge entail?”

“That is left to my discretion, as well as to the discretion of the local justice of the peace.”

“Am I free to leave?”

“No one is stopping you,” Blankenship said with a grim expression. “But I repeat my warning, Mr. Goodwin. You are very close to wearing out your welcome in this community, at least in the eyes of the police department. I have no personal animosity toward you, but I really hope we do not have occasion to meet again.”