A silence, and then the mayor spoke. “Just who are you, sir?”
“I’ll get to that in a moment.” The man raised a piece of paper. “I have here a letter from Captain Stacy Bowdree, USAF, just back from a tour in Afghanistan. When Captain Bowdree heard that you people had dug up her great-great-grandfather Emmett Bowdree, dumped his remains in a box, and stored them in a filthy equipment shed on a ski slope, she was exceedingly upset. In fact, she plans to press charges.”
This was greeted by silence.
The man held up another piece of paper. “Colorado statute is very strict on the desecration of cemeteries and human remains. Allow me to read from Section Ninety-Seven of the Colorado Criminal Codes and Statutes: Desecration of a Cemetery.” And he began to quote aloud.
(2) (a) Every person who shall knowingly and willfully dig up, except as otherwise provided by law with the permission of an authorized descendant, any corpse or remains of any human being, or cause through word, deed or action the same to happen, shall upon conviction be guilty of a Class A felony and shall be imprisoned for not more than thirty (30) years or fined not more than Fifty Thousand Dollars ($50,000.00), or both, in the discretion of the court.
Now the mayor rose in a fury, hammering his gavel. “This is not a court of law!” Bang!“I will not have these proceedings co-opted. If you, sir, have legal questions, take them up with the town attorney instead of wasting our time in a public meeting!”
But the man in the black suit would not be silenced. “Mayor, may I direct your attention to the language? Or cause through word, deed or action the same to happen. That seems to apply to youquite specifically, as well as to Mrs. Kermode and the chief of police. All three of you were responsible in word, deed or actionfor the illegal exhumation of Emmett Bowdree — were you not?”
“Enough! Security, remove this man from the premises!”
Even as two cops struggled to make their way to the man, he spoke again, his voice cutting the air like a razor. “ And are you not about to sentence someone to ten years in prison for violating this very statute that you, yourselves, have already so clearly violated?”
Now the public was aroused, both pro and con. There were some murmurings and scattered shouts: “Is it true?” and “What goes?” along with “Get rid of him!” and “Who the hell is this guy?”
The two cops, pushing their way through the now-standing public crowd, reached the man. One took his arm.
“Don’t give us any trouble, sir.”
The man freed himself from the cop’s grasp. “I would advise you not to touch me.”
“Arrest him for disturbing the peace!” the mayor cried.
“ Let him speak!” someone shouted.
“Sir,” Jenny heard the cop say, “if you won’t cooperate, we’ll have to arrest you.”
The man’s response was drowned out by the hubbub. The mayor rapped his gavel repeatedly, calling for order.
“You’re under arrest,” said the cop. “Place your hands behind your back.”
Instead of obeying the order, Jenny saw the man remove his wallet with a single, smooth motion and flip it open. There was a flash of gold, and the two officers froze.
The hubbub began to die down.
“In response to your earlier question,” the man told the mayor in his dulcet southern voice, “I am Special Agent Pendergast of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Now the entire room went deathly silent. Jenny had never before seen the look she now saw on Mrs. Kermode’s face: shock and fury. Henry Montebello’s face betrayed nothing at all. Chief Morris, for his part, looked paralyzed. Paralyzedwasn’t the word — he looked wilted. Slumped. As if he wanted to melt into his chair and disappear. The mayor looked merely undone.
“Emmett Bowdree,” the man named Pendergast continued, “is just one of a hundred and thirty human remains that the four of you — Mrs. Kermode, the mayor, Mr. Montebello, and the chief of police who signed the actual order — are responsible for desecrating, according to Colorado statute. The criminal and civil liability is staggering.”
Mrs. Kermode recovered first. “Is this how the FBI operates? You come in here, interrupt our public meeting, and make threats? Are you even a real agent? Come down here and present your credentials to the mayor in the proper fashion!”
“Gladly.” The pale man slipped through the gate separating the public area from the official one and strolled down the aisle with a sort of insolent casualness. He arrived in front of the mayor and laid the shield down on the podium. The man examined it, his face reflecting growing consternation.
With a sudden, lithe movement, Agent Pendergast plucked the mayor’s microphone out of its mount. Only then did Jenny realize that inviting the stranger to the front had probably not been the best idea. She could see the reporter from the Roaring Fork Timesscribbling madly, a look of pure joy on his face.
Now the mayor spoke, raising his voice on account of having lost his amplification. “Agent Pendergast, are you here in an official capacity?”
“Not yet,” came the answer.
“Then I move we adjourn this meeting so that our attorneys, the attorneys from The Heights, and you can address these issues in private.” A bang of the gavel sealed this statement.
Agent Pendergast’s black-clad arm snaked out, took the gavel, and moved it out of reach of the mayor’s hand. “Enough of that uncivilized pounding.”
This brought a laugh from the public section.
“I am not yet finished.” Pendergast’s voice, now amplified by the sound system, filled the hall. “Captain Bowdree wrote me that, since her great-great-grandfather’s remains have been so rudely disinterred, and nothing can remedy the insult to his memory, she believes that they should at least be examined for cause of death — for historical purposes, of course. Therefore, she has given permission for a certain Ms. Corrine Swanson to examine those remains before they are reburied. In their originalresting place, by the way.”
“What?” Kermode rose in a fury. “Did that girl send you? Is shebehind this?”
“She has no idea I’m even here,” the man said smoothly. “However, it would seem that the most serious charge against her is now moot — but has instead redounded to the four of you. Youare now the ones facing thirty years in prison — not on one count, but on one hundred and thirty.” He paused. “Imagine if your sentences were to be served sequentially.”
“These accusations are outrageous!” the mayor cried. “I hereby adjourn this meeting. Will security immediately clear the room!”
Chaos ensued. But Pendergast did nothing to prevent it, and the meeting room was finally cleared, leaving him alone with the town fathers, The Heights attorneys, Kermode, Montebello, Chief Morris, and a few other officials. Jenny waited in her seat beside the chief, breathless. What would happen now? For the first time, Kermode looked defeated — haggard, her platinum hair undone. The chief was bathed in sweat, the mayor pale.
“It looks like there’s going to be quite a story in the Roaring Fork Timestomorrow,” said Pendergast.
Everyone seemed to stagger at the thought. The mayor wiped his brow.
“In addition to that story,” said Pendergast, “I’d like to see another one appear.”
There was a long silence. Montebello was the first to speak. “And what might that be?”
“A story stating that you—” Agent Pendergast turned to Chief Morris— “have dropped all charges against Corrine Swanson and released her from jail.”
He let that sink in.
“As I said before, the most serious charge is now moot. Ms. Swanson has permission to examine the remains of Emmett Bowdree. The other charges — trespassing and B and E — are less grave and could be dismissed with relative ease. Everything can, in fact, be chalked up to an unfortunate miscommunication between Chief Morris here and Ms. Swanson.”