"Capron, Bill - Color Blind Detective - Dead White Wulff" - читать интересную книгу автора (Capron Bill)

I said, "Look, officer. You can question me at the station. Right now shouldn't you be finding out where he was killed?"

Even his irritability couldn't hide the ignorance, "What do you mean?"

I put on my third grade teacher hat, "Well, he was drifting downstream and I pulled him out. He's obviously old, so he'd need an easy access, probably upstream a half mile."

Jackson said, "How do we get there?"

"It's a little treacherous, but we can go along the stream."

"Let's go," was the sergeant's gruff reply.

Jackson interrupted, "What about a wallet?" She reached a gloved hand into the lower pocket on his fishing vest. She pulled the ziplock open and read. To no one in particular she asked, "Dan Cobin. Sounds familiar." She looked up at me. "Every heard of him?"

I said, "Yes, he's a pretty famous fly tier here abouts."

Willis turned on me, "So you know him!"

"No, I don't know him, I just know of him."

He cracked wise while Jackson covered the body with the navy gray tarp she'd carried down with her. Suddenly the skies opened up and the rain came down. I led them slowly across the rocks until we found Cobin's rod and truck. The footprints were washed off the rocks, as were mine to his truck, and for sure the tire tracks on the other side of the stream. I was at a decision point. Tell them I'd already been there, and what I'd learned. Put up with more threats from a cop I didn't like. I just kept it to myself.

A person can't know what it's like to waste time until they've spent it in a police station because they did the right thing. They ran me through my statement four times, with a half-hour or more cooling my heels between each. Twice I felt like a suspect when bad cop Willis lead the interrogation, the other two times like a witness with good cop Jackson. I stuck to my story, and by the end of the day, I thought they might actually have believed me.

Being in the station can be pretty informative and I learned just eavesdropping that the body had been taken to the morgue and that the wife had been located and had identified it as Dan Cobin. Also, she would be in the station at seven that night. When deputy Jackson said I could go, I told her I was hungry and asked if she wanted to have a bite to eat. She said okay, that she was through for the day.

"What, you don't get in on the interrogation of Mrs. Cobin?"

Her smile was wan, "Hey, I'm at the bottom of the list here. Willis will take all the credit, and if anything was forgotten, I'll take the blame. That's how it works, just part of putting in your time. Anyway, they needed me to butter you up, and when I didn't get that done, my services, such as they were, were over."

I laughed, "I trust you won't be like Sergeant Willis when you grow up." She shook her head. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I thought you did a great job of buttering me up. Usually the good cop doesn't look so good."

Her face clouded, but the embarrassed smile was genuine, "I think you were the only bright spot in my day."

We walked a hundred yards to the Subway, ordered, then sat down with our turkey sandwiches. "Learn anything important about Cobin today?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Little hard to do, considering you were the only witness we spoke to. Took a while to find the wife." Then wistfully, "She's coming in tonight. I might go back and listen in. Willis won't like it, but what the hell." There was a slight tinge of bitterness, but she got by it. She focused her light eyes on mine, a knowing look, "So, did you tell us everything?"

I took a deep breath, then decided, "I told you all the news that's fit to print. If I learn anything else though, you'll be the first to know."

She warned, "You're on pretty thin ice without a client."

I shrugged. "My life is thin ice, officer. So what's the sergeant got against me."

Her laugh caught us both unexpectedly. "You'll never believe it." She looked around like she was conveying a well-kept secret. "He's a bait fisherman, and he thinks you fly guys look down at him."

I smiled, "We do." I liked her, a lot. "So, what do they call you outside of work?"

"You can call me Windy."