better than trusting to his good graces.”
“Heard you were up there looking for information about the Chester Carew shooting.”
“I was. Carew was a personal friend. The widow’s naturally concerned that whoever shot him is still running around loose.”
Nolestar’s eyes flicked down toward the table. “Right. I’m aware of Mrs. Carew’s concerns, naturally. We’re doing all we can to find whoever shot her husband. Other than being a friend, what’s your interest level?”
“Well, I’m not really at liberty to say, but I’d sure appreciate any information you can share. Who knows? Maybe we can help one another.”
“Maybe. I’m happy to try to bring you up to speed … a little. But I hope you don’t plan on involving yourself in this investigation, Mr. Pavlicek, without the knowledge or cooperation of the sheriff’s department or other authorities.”
Nabbed. Time to redirect.
“Other authorities? Now who else might be interested in a supposedly accidental shooting?” I asked.
“Afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” he said with a straight face.
I smiled. “Okay. Okay.” I blew on my coffee and took a small sip. It hurt my mouth at first, but then felt good as it burned down my throat. “But you said you would bring me up to speed, as you put it?”
“To a point,” he said. “I’ve done some checking into your background, and your friend there … Toronto, is it? Your record’s not exactly clean, but you are ex-homicide and Detective Ferrier in Charlottesville vouches for you. That goes a long way with me, but you got to make sure you understand, Mr. Pavlicek, we’re dealing with a different world these days.”
“Different world? Sure, I suppose, but you’re talking about the accidental killing of a falconer like it’s a matter of national security.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments as we both sipped our coffees.
“How about an autopsy. Can we start there? Carew was shot in the back, I know that.”
“That’s correct,” Nolestar said.
“Close range? Long range?”
He looked away. “The M.E. thinks twenty to thirty yards.”
“Pretty close range then.”
He nodded.
“Still think it was a hunter?”
He said nothing.
“So the shot is what killed him.”
“Carew died from massive bleeding and shock related to the gunshot. Looks like the slug tore into a piece of his heart. No surprise there, I guess.”
“What about the gun? What type of load was used?”
“Well, ah, the bullet was recovered, I can tell you that.”
“And? What type was it?”
“I’m afraid that’s, um, classified information, Mr. Pavlicek.”
“Classified? How about shell casings?”
He shook his head. Different world indeed. For the first time I found myself wishing Bill Ferrier’s mug were around. At least I could deal with the detective from Charlottesville. Then again, all this guy knew about me was information he’d read from a database and Bill’s good word.
“How about the shotgun I turned over to you guys this afternoon? You get any prints off of that?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, sir. Nothing we could use. And without a further description of the guy, he’s going to be hard to find.”
“Stonewall Rangers,” I said.
Nolestar cleared his throat. “What’s that?” he asked.
“You know who they are.”
“Okay. … What about ‘em?”
“Chester had been to some of their meetings.”
“We know that.”
“Did you also know they were after him to use his land?”
He said nothing.
“Are they suspects in Chester’s killing?” I asked.
“Pavlicek,” he said, “look. Don’t involve yourself in stuff where you’re not needed. I know this guy was a friend of yours and all, but—”
“But what?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. We leveled even stares at one another.
“Can you at least tell me what you think happened to Elo?”
“Elo?”
“Carew’s falcon. A gyr-peregrine. The one he was hunting with that
“Heard you were up there looking for information about the Chester Carew shooting.”
“I was. Carew was a personal friend. The widow’s naturally concerned that whoever shot him is still running around loose.”
Nolestar’s eyes flicked down toward the table. “Right. I’m aware of Mrs. Carew’s concerns, naturally. We’re doing all we can to find whoever shot her husband. Other than being a friend, what’s your interest level?”
“Well, I’m not really at liberty to say, but I’d sure appreciate any information you can share. Who knows? Maybe we can help one another.”
“Maybe. I’m happy to try to bring you up to speed … a little. But I hope you don’t plan on involving yourself in this investigation, Mr. Pavlicek, without the knowledge or cooperation of the sheriff’s department or other authorities.”
Nabbed. Time to redirect.
“Other authorities? Now who else might be interested in a supposedly accidental shooting?” I asked.
“Afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” he said with a straight face.
I smiled. “Okay. Okay.” I blew on my coffee and took a small sip. It hurt my mouth at first, but then felt good as it burned down my throat. “But you said you would bring me up to speed, as you put it?”
“To a point,” he said. “I’ve done some checking into your background, and your friend there … Toronto, is it? Your record’s not exactly clean, but you are ex-homicide and Detective Ferrier in Charlottesville vouches for you. That goes a long way with me, but you got to make sure you understand, Mr. Pavlicek, we’re dealing with a different world these days.”
“Different world? Sure, I suppose, but you’re talking about the accidental killing of a falconer like it’s a matter of national security.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments as we both sipped our coffees.
“How about an autopsy. Can we start there? Carew was shot in the back, I know that.”
“That’s correct,” Nolestar said.
“Close range? Long range?”
He looked away. “The M.E. thinks twenty to thirty yards.”
“Pretty close range then.”
He nodded.
“Still think it was a hunter?”
He said nothing.
“So the shot is what killed him.”
“Carew died from massive bleeding and shock related to the gunshot. Looks like the slug tore into a piece of his heart. No surprise there, I guess.”
“What about the gun? What type of load was used?”
“Well, ah, the bullet was recovered, I can tell you that.”
“And? What type was it?”
“I’m afraid that’s, um, classified information, Mr. Pavlicek.”
“Classified? How about shell casings?”
He shook his head. Different world indeed. For the first time I found myself wishing Bill Ferrier’s mug were around. At least I could deal with the detective from Charlottesville. Then again, all this guy knew about me was information he’d read from a database and Bill’s good word.
“How about the shotgun I turned over to you guys this afternoon? You get any prints off of that?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, sir. Nothing we could use. And without a further description of the guy, he’s going to be hard to find.”
“Stonewall Rangers,” I said.
Nolestar cleared his throat. “What’s that?” he asked.
“You know who they are.”
“Okay. … What about ‘em?”
“Chester had been to some of their meetings.”
“We know that.”
“Did you also know they were after him to use his land?”
He said nothing.
“Are they suspects in Chester’s killing?” I asked.
“Pavlicek,” he said, “look. Don’t involve yourself in stuff where you’re not needed. I know this guy was a friend of yours and all, but—”
“But what?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. We leveled even stares at one another.
“Can you at least tell me what you think happened to Elo?”
“Elo?”
“Carew’s falcon. A gyr-peregrine. The one he was hunting with that
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