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Sherlock gave him her sunny smile. “Oh no, Sheriff Noble, we’re simply here to help. After all, Ruth is one of ours. Dillon called our boss, told him what we were doing. Mr. Maitland wants this cleared up as well. He hates it when someone tries to kill one of his agents.”
Savich said clearly, looking Dixon Noble in the eye, “We have no intention of bigfooting you, Sheriff, banish the thought. We can help you with equipment, information, anything you need.”
Dix still didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Would you like more tea, Agent Savich?”
DIX PUNCHED OFF his cell phone. He was grinning when he walked back into the living room. “The boys got a better offer than Dad’s leftover stew for dinner. They’re having pizza at the Claussons’ house with a bunch of other kids, bless the Claussons and all their ancestors, so we don’t have to watch what we say. I twisted the truth a bit, told them you FBI big shots weren’t staying long this evening, which meant they wouldn’t be able to get much out of you. That and the ‘Garbage Dump’ pizzas turned the tide.”
After they’d eaten the sheriff’s stew for dinner, Sherlock watched Ruth, as natural as could be, fill the kettle at the sink and put it on the stove, and fetch tea bags from a big messy cupboard. “Hey, we’ve got some cheese and crackers for dessert. They’re closed with a rubber band so they shouldn’t be stale.”
Dix laughed. “Sorry I didn’t have more to offer you for dinner.”
“The stew was excellent,” Sherlock said. “You’re a good cook, Sheriff.”
“I learned,” he said shortly, and put tea bags into two cups. “Ruth, more coffee?”
He was watching her as she nodded. “Ruth—I like that. I suppose it sounds more like you than Madonna. It’s powerful, biblical.”
Ruth smiled at him. “Sorry to switch names on you in the middle of the stream, Sheriff. Where do you think Dillon and Sherlock should stay in Maestro?”
“At Bud Bailey’s B-and-B, right on High Street, half a block from my office. Oh, I forgot, Ruth. Tell me where you were staying. No one recognized your photo.”
“I hadn’t made a reservation anywhere. I thought after I got my treasure, I’d drive back home if it wasn’t too late.”
“Did you get gas anywhere?”
“Sure, in Hamilton.”
The sheriff frowned. “That’s a bit too far up the road for us to have canvassed. Where do you live?”
“In Alexandria.”
Sherlock said, “The men in the truck that blew up—have they done the autopsies yet?”
“We were lucky we could get the county ME to work on Sunday. Even though the men were burned real bad, he managed to pull up some partial prints, and some dental X-rays. They had to come from somewhere. We’re hoping there’ll be missing persons reports on them in the next couple of days. Unless they were brought in, and that would make them professionals. There wasn’t much time for that, so that may mean some sort of local group is behind this, whoever they are and whatever this is. In any case, I’ve called in all my deputies, and now the FBI is involved. Any ideas you guys can come up with will be appreciated.”
It was grudging, Savich thought, but it was a start, and the sheriff almost meant it. “We’ll plan to head out to Winkel’s Cave with you as our first stop tomorrow morning.” He turned to Ruth. “You want us to bring anything?”
Dix said as he shook his head, “No, I can provide flashlights and head lamps and picks in case we need them. We have a stack of them in the department.”
Savich nodded, and continued to Ruth, “I don’t suppose you got permission from the Park Service to go into that cave on Friday, did you?”
“Good news. Winkel’s Cave is on private land. Mr. Weaver, the owner, and I have already made a deal. He even had a locked gate in there, but no key, so I kind of picked the lock. It’s what Indiana Jones would have done, isn’t it?”
Sherlock rolled her eyes. “At least we don’t have to worry about getting permission from the Park Service.”
Savich said, “I bet it wouldn’t have been a problem. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Maitland has a golf crony who’s a higher-up in the Park Service.” He shot a look at Ruth, thought of how close she’d come to death. “You’re not going to be out of my sight in that cave, Ruth.”
Ruth looked pleased about that. She said, “Oh yeah, Sheriff, Mr. Maitland has four boys.”
Savich said clearly, looking Dixon Noble in the eye, “We have no intention of bigfooting you, Sheriff, banish the thought. We can help you with equipment, information, anything you need.”
Dix still didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Would you like more tea, Agent Savich?”
DIX PUNCHED OFF his cell phone. He was grinning when he walked back into the living room. “The boys got a better offer than Dad’s leftover stew for dinner. They’re having pizza at the Claussons’ house with a bunch of other kids, bless the Claussons and all their ancestors, so we don’t have to watch what we say. I twisted the truth a bit, told them you FBI big shots weren’t staying long this evening, which meant they wouldn’t be able to get much out of you. That and the ‘Garbage Dump’ pizzas turned the tide.”
After they’d eaten the sheriff’s stew for dinner, Sherlock watched Ruth, as natural as could be, fill the kettle at the sink and put it on the stove, and fetch tea bags from a big messy cupboard. “Hey, we’ve got some cheese and crackers for dessert. They’re closed with a rubber band so they shouldn’t be stale.”
Dix laughed. “Sorry I didn’t have more to offer you for dinner.”
“The stew was excellent,” Sherlock said. “You’re a good cook, Sheriff.”
“I learned,” he said shortly, and put tea bags into two cups. “Ruth, more coffee?”
He was watching her as she nodded. “Ruth—I like that. I suppose it sounds more like you than Madonna. It’s powerful, biblical.”
Ruth smiled at him. “Sorry to switch names on you in the middle of the stream, Sheriff. Where do you think Dillon and Sherlock should stay in Maestro?”
“At Bud Bailey’s B-and-B, right on High Street, half a block from my office. Oh, I forgot, Ruth. Tell me where you were staying. No one recognized your photo.”
“I hadn’t made a reservation anywhere. I thought after I got my treasure, I’d drive back home if it wasn’t too late.”
“Did you get gas anywhere?”
“Sure, in Hamilton.”
The sheriff frowned. “That’s a bit too far up the road for us to have canvassed. Where do you live?”
“In Alexandria.”
Sherlock said, “The men in the truck that blew up—have they done the autopsies yet?”
“We were lucky we could get the county ME to work on Sunday. Even though the men were burned real bad, he managed to pull up some partial prints, and some dental X-rays. They had to come from somewhere. We’re hoping there’ll be missing persons reports on them in the next couple of days. Unless they were brought in, and that would make them professionals. There wasn’t much time for that, so that may mean some sort of local group is behind this, whoever they are and whatever this is. In any case, I’ve called in all my deputies, and now the FBI is involved. Any ideas you guys can come up with will be appreciated.”
It was grudging, Savich thought, but it was a start, and the sheriff almost meant it. “We’ll plan to head out to Winkel’s Cave with you as our first stop tomorrow morning.” He turned to Ruth. “You want us to bring anything?”
Dix said as he shook his head, “No, I can provide flashlights and head lamps and picks in case we need them. We have a stack of them in the department.”
Savich nodded, and continued to Ruth, “I don’t suppose you got permission from the Park Service to go into that cave on Friday, did you?”
“Good news. Winkel’s Cave is on private land. Mr. Weaver, the owner, and I have already made a deal. He even had a locked gate in there, but no key, so I kind of picked the lock. It’s what Indiana Jones would have done, isn’t it?”
Sherlock rolled her eyes. “At least we don’t have to worry about getting permission from the Park Service.”
Savich said, “I bet it wouldn’t have been a problem. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Maitland has a golf crony who’s a higher-up in the Park Service.” He shot a look at Ruth, thought of how close she’d come to death. “You’re not going to be out of my sight in that cave, Ruth.”
Ruth looked pleased about that. She said, “Oh yeah, Sheriff, Mr. Maitland has four boys.”
