"Indeed it was," the sheriff said. "The current theory is that she was shooting at Lieutenant Richter here, but Valeria stood up at precisely the wrong moment. She has eleven puncture wounds in various parts of her anatomy, some of them fairly personal, but nothing life-threatening. The major damage seems to have been to her memory: Ms. Valeria also knows nothing about nothing, just like Mrs. Johnson. Lot of that going around out there."
"Except she does," I said. "She told me that Callendar sent the dog trainer lady away because she and her dogs were useless."
"Away?" one of the detectives asked.
"I explained that to her. She was in total denial about Callendar murdering the woman. But she's definitely part of this deal."
"Oh, man," the sheriff said.
"And the major?" I asked. "What happened when he came back?"
"He came back in at dawn in full regalia, saw the cops, told them there was Union cavalry afoot and that they should be extremely vigilant. Then he put up his horse and went inside, looking for breakfast."
"He knows nothing about nothing, too, right?"
"Absolutely," the sheriff said. "Just another pleasant night ride in the country."
"Vell, someone knows somezing," Captain Hildy said. "Zis vas no phantom explosive zat went off in zat truck. Zis is police equipment."
The sheriff eyed the raccoon circles. "What prompted you to go into that truck?" he asked. He had to raise his voice because she couldn't hear very well.
"Someone vas zere," she said. "Ve couldn't see him, but Deputy Barnes heard a noise in zere. I assumed he'd been varned and vas preparing to drive zat truck out of zere."
"How is the truck?" I asked as innocently as I could. Sheriff Walker seemed to be having trouble controlling his expression.
"No more vindows," she said, looking at me suspiciously. She just knew I had something to do mit zat.
"Sheriff," I asked, anxious now to change ze subject, "you got a look in the house at Laurel Grove?"
"A look is the right word," he said. "Not a search by any means. Hester maintained that the only people in the house were the family members: the major, Valeria, and herself. She showed me all the rooms. I also got to look into the attic, where there's nothing but old timbers. I didn't get into the basement, if there even is one."
"No signs of use in the guest rooms?"
"There aren't any guest rooms, best I could tell. Place is a damn museum. It's all late 1800s, the furniture, the bric-a-brac, lace doilies, stuff like that. Wall sconces with candles instead of lightbulbs. Portable lamps with glass chimneys. Fireplaces in every room, and all still in use, from the look of them."
"I wonder," I said. "Could Hester be telling the truth? Maybe Callendar never was in that house?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Well, look, that's not the same as saying Hester and this guy aren't mixed up in some scheme to acquire Glory's End, but it is possible that he's not physically been there."
"Then how are they communicating?" Hildy asked.
"That crazy old man who rides out night and day, and God knows where he goes."
"On horseback," the sheriff said, "he could go damn near anywhere."
That's what Carol Pollard had told me, I remembered. "Could he cross the river?"
"I guess he could swim the horse if the river was fairly quiet."
"Or," said one of the deputies, "there's one of those Civil War era fords. Some of 'em were natural shallows, some they made by layin' down slate and gravel so that cavalry could get away by crossing the river at secret locations."
"You think the major is in on this, then?" the sheriff asked. "You're the one who's really met him, talked to him."
"I do not," I said. "Not in the sense that he is a co-conspirator. I do think Hester could tell him that he had to meet one of Jeff Davis's spies down by the river and deliver a written message, and he'd do that."
"Holy shit," murmured the second detective, shaking his head.
"That's where he lives," I said. "If he's faking it, he's awfully good at it."
The ADA looked at his watch. "Sheriff, is there a case to be brought here?"
"Well," the sheriff said, "I'm guessing that Ms. Valeria isn't going to prosecute her mother for peppering her with a ten-gauge, and Cubby Johnson is a deal prospect when he comes out of ICU. So I guess, for now anyway…"
"Right," Lawyer Davis said. "I'm due in court in thirty minutes, so I'll excuse myself. I have just one question: Why was Mrs. Lee trying to shoot Lieutenant Richter here?"
Great question, I thought. I explained the sequence of events that led up to Hester's unintentional ventilation of Valeria's backside. ADA Davis looked over at Sheriff Walker, as if to confirm that the sheriff had himself a genu-wine Lebanese goat-grab on his hands with this one, then left.
"Zo, now vhat?" Hildy asked, suddenly eyeing me like a piece of meat. "Ve haff a crime, or no?"
"Ve haff a hairball, is what," the sheriff said. He rubbed both sides of his face with his hands. "Okay, everybody," he said. "No further action until all the wounded have been restored to duty and we can get some more statements, assuming they'll make some. Lieutenant? You are going to have to move, I understand?"
"In the works," I said. "I'm going to move over to the house at Glory's End. Save all the Auntie Bellums the trouble of evicting my ass."
The detectives laughed at the Auntie Bellums comment, but Hildy was not amused. She vas still trying to pin zome high crimes and misdemeanors on zomeone, hopefully me. The sheriff got up.
"Sometimes," he said, "we just have to wait and see what develops. I'll be in my office, should the president happen to call."
"How about zis little problem?" Hildy asked, holding up the expended concussion grenade case.
The sheriff looked at it. "It appears to have been expended," he said. "Throw it away."
I took the mutts back to the cottage and began the process of packing up my stuff for the move across the road. The big house up across the lawns was silent, what with Cubby and Patience gone, Valeria in the hospital, and Hester probably with her there keeping watch. I wondered if anyone had fed the horses in all the excitement but then realized that the major was probably up there. Surely he would realize that the barn creatures had not been cared for. I was tempted to go up and remind him but then decided against it: If he'd witnessed the altercation with Hester and Valeria the night before, he might just answer the door with his own coach gun.
As I was packing up the Suburban, Carol Pollard came down the driveway in her pickup truck. Apparently the word hadn't gotten out yet about the night's events, so I had to fill her in. She helped me carry out the rest of my stuff, such as it was.
"You can't live there," she said.
"Old Mrs. Tarrant managed," I said. "Besides we've got the place wired up a bit, and there's reliable electricity. I certainly can't stay here."
"So this thing's over?" she said. "This guy who said he was going to kill you? He's gone?"
"Well," I said, "he might be. He might not be. He can't present a will to the court without exposing himself to local law, and after last night, they've got a fair laundry list of charges."
"Except they can't prove it was Callendar who was shooting at them. Like you said, they never saw his face."
"True," I said. "That's why it may not be over yet. Either way, I can't stay here, and I at least have some surveillance gear over there. Plus these three fuzz balls here."
"I've got three bedrooms in my house," she said. "You're welcome to hole up there if you'd prefer. It might be safer."
I smiled at her. She'd tended to her powder and paint this morning and looked very nice. She'd been doing that a lot lately. "I'd like that," I said, "but it would also put you in the line of fire. This mess has been between him and me since the beginning. I still don't entirely understand it, but if he's alive, he'll be back."