“That’s your decision,” I said. I headed for the door. “I’ll tell Harry Orbis to bring your car in.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he said.
I drove a few blocks to Harry Orbis’ big service station, found him inside the office, and asked him to tow Milford’s station wagon to the local body shop.
“For a good customer like Milford, I’ll do it right now,” he said. “He’s given me all his business for years, and never questioned a bill. He’s a real nice guy.”
“Did you service his wife’s car?” I asked.
“I sure did. She was a fine lady. I’m sorry she’s gone.”
“She didn’t happen to stop by the evening she left, did she?”
“Not to my knowledge. Why?”
“I’m just asking. I thought she might have filled the tank and mentioned where she was headed. Milford has his back up and says he doesn’t want to know where she is, but I think if I located her he might be interested enough to show up with a dozen roses or something.”
He grinned. “I didn’t know you were a marriage counselor.”
“When you’re sheriff of this county, you’re a little bit of everything. Get the car before the State Police impound it.”
I drove back to the office. Julio was pacing back and forth, his hat on and his jacket zipped closed. “I was just about to start yelling for you over the radio. I got a call from Pat’s Body Shop up in Morgan. A young guy brought in a smashed headlight and a damaged grille. I told Pat to stall until one of us got there.”
“And you want it to be you.” I pointed to the door. “Go.”
After he had gone, I took the envelope that held the broken glass he had picked up at the scene and slid the pieces out onto my desk. Using the eraser at the end of a pencil, I began pushing them around, more or less fitting them together as if working a jigsaw puzzle. There were pieces missing that had been carried down the roadway or imbedded in Toper’s clothing, but it really didn’t matter. It was obvious the glass came from a rectangular headlight on one of the later-model cars.
I glanced at my watch. Julio was taking longer than he should for the run up to Morgan and back. I thought of Milford and his wife, wondering just exactly what he would do if I walked up and handed him her present address. Husbands and wives had a way of saying one thing and doing something entirely different, which was why I generally liked to skate around the edges of a marital quarrel, but Milford was a nice guy — well liked and respected — and his wife was a fine woman. Getting them back together was worth a try.
I flipped open my telephone-number index, found the one I wanted, and dialed. When the operator answered, I said, “Mr. Zeller’s office.”
The secretary sounded nice enough to invite to lunch sight unseen, and if I knew Zeller that was no gamble at all. When she asked my name I said, “Tell Mr. Zeller the big bass he’s been after for two years with all of that expensive gear was caught by a kid with a fishing pole and a can of worms.”
She laughed. The phone clicked and Zeller’s deep voice came on. “I hope you’re lying, Gates, because if you’re not I’m selling that cabin of mine.”
“If I were, you’d never know. I’d import a couple of big ones just to keep you happy. You still have a few weeks before everything freezes over. Are you going to try?”
“I can’t get away. I intend to make it for a little skiing later — but you didn’t call to check on my vacation plans. What can I do for you?”
“Do you have access to the billing records of gasoline credit-card purchases for your oil company?”
“With a phone call. Why?”
“I’d like to do a man a favor. His wife left Fox River last week. I figure she has to be using one of your credit cards for gasoline. The charge slips will show the location of the stations.”
“That may be too recent for the records to have been processed but I’ll try. Give me the name and account number.”
“I don’t have the number. The name is Zoe Milford. The card is probably made out to Kirk Milford.”
“I have a meeting in fifteen minutes but my secretary will see what she can do and call you.”
“Fine,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to feel hurt, but I’d prefer talking to her anyway. She has a beautiful voice.”
“My wife keeps reminding me of that,” he said drily.
A gleaming red fastback rumbled past the window, followed by Julio’s four-wheel drive, and in a few minutes a young man with long blond hair came into the office with Julio close behind.
“This is Hugo Waller,” said Julio. “His car is outside. It has one broken headlight, a dented grille, and what looks to me like blood-stains on the lip of the fender.”
Waller folded his arms, his face impassive.
“I suppose he has an explanation for the broken headlight?” I asked.
“He claims someone backed into him in the parking lot of one of the roadhouses last night. I took him to several of them. Unfortunately, none seemed to be the right place.”
I looked at Waller. “Any witnesses?”
“No,” he said.
“Did you report it to your insurance company?”
“So they can raise my premium?”
“Why waste any more time?” asked Julio. “The State Police can analyze the blood.”
My eyes found Waller’s. “Remarkable what they can do,” I told him.
“Since we’re going to find out anyway, you might as well tell us what you hit. I’m sure it wasn’t Toper Kelly.”
Julio stared at me.
Waller sighed. “I never could figure out why I’ve always been so unlucky. We’re overhauling the ski lift up at the lodge for the winter. I was working up at the top and at the end of the day, I started down the road. You know that road?”
“I know the road,” I said.
“There are places where you can’t see what’s around the curve ahead,” said Waller. “It was almost dark and I was pushing it a little. I came around a curve and there was a young doe right in front of me. She froze. I tried to miss her but just caught her with the right side of my car. I broke her neck. I stood there wondering what to do. I know you’re supposed to report it to the District Game Protector, but I decided to keep the doe. She was small, so I put her in the trunk, figuring I’d get some venison out of it at least. I dressed her out when I got home and hung her up. She’s still there. You can go look. That’s all there was to it.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” demanded Julio.
“I already told you it would cost me a hundred and a half for the car. Now I’m on the hook for another two hundred for not reporting it and the doe will be confiscated!”
“You’re getting off easy,” I said. “Get that deer and take it to the game protector. We’ll call and tell him you’re coming. If you don’t show, you’ll find out what trouble really is.”
The moment the door closed behind Waller, Julio asked, “How did you know it wasn’t him?”
I pointed at the broken lens. “Waller is driving a car that has round headlights. This one is from a car with rectangular headlights. The glass couldn’t have come from his car.”
Julio spread his hands. “What now?”
“We keep looking. Run out to the hospital and see if Blenheim has come up with anything and collect Toper’s clothes so we can send them to the State Police lab.”
I leaned back and clasped my hands behind my neck, thinking of Toper Kelly and wondering what he was doing out at three in the morning. In all the years I’d known him, that wasn’t his style. He’d take on his quota early, crawl into a car somewhere, and pass out. And then there was the money in his pocket. A hundred dollars was probably more than he ever had since he hit Fox River.