The Taking of Libbie, SD (Mac McKenzie #7)
Page 88“I did not. I already knew who shot Mike and Tracie. I asked those questions to make sure I was right. I had to know why your husband lied. Now I know. Dammit, you guys.”
“Does this mean that we’re not friends anymore?” Sharren said. There was a smirk on her face as if she expected an insult and was all set to reciprocate.
“That night in the lobby of the Pioneer, when you gave me the sandwich,” I said. “You told me that you finally found someone you couldn’t live without. Remember?”
Nancy smiled as if she had just heard the best compliment.
“Why didn’t you tell me about you and Nancy then?”
Sharren looked at Nancy. “It’s a small town,” Nancy said. Sharren nodded as if it were a conclusion they had both reached long ago.
“I don’t care. If you’re in love, you should be together. It’s that simple.”
Yet even as I said the words, I flashed on my relationship with Nina.
It’s never simple, my inner voice said.
I slipped off the examination table and winced some more. Nancy rushed to my side. I guess she thought I might collapse from the pain. I found myself smiling in spite of myself.
“Libbie, South Dakota,” I said. “Rules, regulations, and respect.”
“I’ve always wondered who came up with that motto,” Sharren said.
“Someone with a sense of irony,” I said.
“Maybe it was just wishful thinking,” Chief Gustafson said.
This time he was the one standing in the entrance to the examination suite. Sharren and Nancy glanced at each other with the same alarmed expression. Like them, I wondered how long the chief had been standing there and how much he had heard. He didn’t offer a clue. Instead, he said, “I heard you were back in town, McKenzie. Do you want to tell me what happened to you?”
“I’ll explain on the way,” I said.
I wedged past the chief into the corridor.
“Wait a minute,” the chief said. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to identify the Imposter. I’m going to show you what happened to him. After all, that’s why I came here. Where’s my Audi?”
“Your Audi? It’s in the lot at headquarters.”
He said “headquarters” like there were police precincts scattered all over the place.
“We’ll take my car,” I said.
“Just so you know, I confiscated all of your guns,” the chief said. “I locked them in the vault in my office.”
“All of those weapons are legally registered—”
“Including the Colt submachine gun with the 40 mm grenade launcher?”
“I have a carry permit, too.”
“In Minnesota you have a carry permit. This is South Dakota.”
I glared at the chief for a couple of beats. He glared right back.
“Fine,” I said. “You drive. Oh, by the way, I need my cell phone.”
When we arrived, the bison hanging above the front entrance to Grandma Miller’s bar and grill was committing the sacrilege of singing the old Louis Armstrong standard “What a Wonderful World”—if you call what he was doing to the song singing. If I could have reached, I would have punched it right in the mouth.
We had paused at the cop shop to retrieve my black sports jacket and cell. By the time we reached Grandma Miller’s, most of the lunch crowd had already drifted out, and there were plenty of empty tables and booths inside. The chief and I paused next to a sign that read please seat yourself while I scanned the dining area. Sara Miller was policing a table near the corner. She smiled when she saw us, gave a wave, and gestured at the table near the center of the room.
“Remember,” I said. “You promised.”
“I remember,” the chief said.
We made our way to the table while Sara took the dirty dishes into the kitchen. We were sitting when she returned.
“Hi, McKenzie,” she said. “Chief.”
“How are you doing, Sara?” I said.
She smiled brightly. I think she was still getting used to her new name.
“I’m doing well. I really am. What happened to your eye?”
I flashed on her father.
“It ran into something,” I said.
“Sorry to hear that.” She pulled an order pad from her apron pocket. “What would you gentlemen like?”
“Information,” I said.
“Information?”
“What is it, McKenzie?” She was looking at the chief when she spoke the words.
I gestured again, and reluctantly she sat.
“What is it?” she repeated.
“It’s about Rush,” the chief said.
“Rush?” she said.
I gave the chief a hard look. He read my face and directed his gaze out the window at the highway.
“Listen, sweetie,” I said. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Nothing at all. Right, Chief?”
The chief nodded and said, “Yes. I promised.”
“But Sara, I need you to tell us the truth. It’s important.”
Sara nodded her head and folded her hands on top of the table. I think she knew what was coming.
“The night that the Imposter disappeared,” I said. “Tuesday night. You called him, didn’t you? You called his hotel room from your home.”