Code 61

TWENTY-THREE

Monday, October 9, 2000

20:38

Hester and I went over our plan of attack. First, we needed to get a warrant issued for Daniel Peale. We now had a home address, and could teletype it to his home county. They should be able to pick him up, if he was home.

“Don't forget to add a 'Use Caution' to that warrant,” said Hester. “He did try to gut Borman.”

“Don't worry.” It would have to be a warrant for assault only, at this point. We had sufficient evidence to bring him in on the Borman assault. We didn't have nearly enough to try to take him on murder. Not yet. But an assault on a police officer would get plenty of attention.

Then, we thought it behooved us to get to those house blueprints over in Lake Geneva. When we went over to interview Jessica, which we should do tomorrow, as well.

“If they get Peale in Illinois, it could take a while to get him up to Iowa, even if he waives extradition.”

“Absolutely,” said Hester. “Which he would be foolish to do.” She paused. “You think we should go to the funeral?”

“Naw. We put in an appearance at the wake. Not necessary to go tomorrow.”

“Good,” said Hester. “I don't have anything appropriate in my little duty bag that I keep in the car. I don't think I'll have to go back home for three more days, as long as I don't have to get all dressed up for something. And as long as the State keeps paying my motel bill.”

“This is one place you never have to get dressed up,” I said. “Ever.”

I got the warrant from a magistrate in Manchester, the County Seat of adjoining Delaware County, who was the one on night duty in our district. A fifty-mile drive, each way. I got home at midnight.

Sue had left a casserole in the refrigerator, with a note on the door that directed me to it. There was another note on the microwave, warning me to keep the dish covered so it wouldn't spatter.

After I ate, I got upstairs and found a note on the bathroom mirror. “Don't forget that the fourteenth is the birthday party for Betsy.” A cousin. I would have, and probably would again, anyway. We were to be hosting the family for the afternoon and evening, since it was my day off. Fourteen guests, and our daughter, Jane, was coming home from Michigan for the event.

I hated the way we had to communicate with notes so much. I mean I know that some couples write to each other. But they're the ones who live apart, for God's sake.

I wrote on the bottom of the note that I'd be there no matter what. I hoped I was right. Then I took my flashlight, and, holding my hand over the lens and letting just a little light shine between my fingers, I crept into the bedroom, and turned down the blanket.

“It's okay,” came a sleepy voice. “I couldn't sleep. How'd the day go?”

“Fine,” I said. “No problems.”

I went out like the proverbial light.

The phone rang, and stopped after the second ring. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 07:48. I was the only one in bed, and Sue left for school at eight. She had probably gotten the call downstairs. I turned back over.

Sue said my name, from the bedroom door. “Carl?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“It's for you. The office.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. “Thanks.” I rolled back over, and reached out for the phone by the bed. “Yeah?”

“You better come out right away,” said Gwen, who should have been gone.

“Why are you still at work?” I asked.

“Bad wreck down by Freeman's Grove about zero two hundred,” she said. “Just getting ready to go. But you have to come out right away, and get up to the Freiberg Funeral Home.”

“What's up?” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

“I don't know. Really. But the Freiberg officer, Byng, says we need the investigator there right away.”

“Can you give me a guess?” I asked.

“All I know is that we got a call about ten minutes ago from the funeral home, and they requested an officer. He got there, and I thought it was just some traffic arrangement thing, you know, for the funeral today. And I think he did, too. And then Byng called on the phone, and said not to say anything over the radio, and not to tell Lamar.”

It all came out in a rush, and she just about lost me. “Right,” I said. “But no idea why?”

“No. And he said that he'd be very busy, and not to call him until you get there.”

Unusual. Very unusual.

I was in the car and en route to Freiberg by 07:59. Not bad, considering. There had been some very cold coffee standing in the pot, left over from yesterday morning. I'd slurped some from a cup, and winced. But it was coffee.

It was a school day, so I kept it under seventy all the way up, but I did turn on my red lights. Didn't encounter a single school bus. Figured.

I went out of the car on the radio at 08:18, at the Freiberg Funeral Home.

The first person I met was Mrs. Marteen, the director's wife, who was very pale and fluttering around like some sort of demented butterfly. All she said was “This way, this way,” as she ushered me into the back.

The funeral director and Byng were standing back by the vault where they would keep a body when it wasn't being viewed. The door was pretty big, in order to permit the easy passage of the coffins.

“What happened?” It's the best question.

“It's awful,” said the director. “Terrible. Just terrible.”

Byng said, “Broke into the vault, here, Carl, and I found a place out back where it looks like they might have come in through an unlocked window. No breaks, though.”

“Okay. What's missing?” I had an incredible feeling of dread that somebody had taken Edie's body.

“Nothing as far as we can tell,” he said. “But you better see this.”

We entered the well-lit, cool vault, and I could see that Edie's coffin was opened. I came around the right side, and looked down at her.

“Aw, shit,” I said.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

There was a crude wooden stake protruding from the center of her chest.