the public knows. There’s no reason to tell you.”
“Will it hurt your investigation if I know?”
He considered. “I wouldn’t want it reported.”
“Here’s how we’ll work it. If you tell me something off the record, I won’t report it unless I get it from another source.” I preferred two other sources, one to say it, one to confirm it, but the population of Cottonwood County was small enough to keep the potential pool of sources a tad shallow. I left myself wiggle room.
“So what I’m about to tell you is off the record?”
“Off the record.”
“I called my sister Sandra.”
Not what I was expecting, but I stumbled along. “Is she in law enforcement?”
“No. She works for a doctor in Montana.”
I started to get impatient, then took another look—the guy was sleep-deprived and stressed. If I sighed too hard it might knock him over. “Why did you call Sandra, Richard?”
“To see when we could get Keith Landry in to see the doctor.”
Maybe he was past sleep-deprived. “Get him in for what?”
“An autopsy. A forensic autopsy, I mean. The hospital can do the other kind, but I didn’t want any chance of this being— The guy she works for is closest. But if he was backed up, I’d’ve gone to somebody else.”
“You aren’t satisfied the bulls were enough to cause death?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
He sounded weary. I decided to wrap this up. “Landry’s body has gone to a forensic pathologist in Montana.”
“Will go. About ten. After more preliminary work. The deputy coroner will go with, and Deputy Sampson.” A thin smile twisted his mouth. “His first autopsy. I warned Sandra.”
“And the forensic pathologist’s name is . . . ” He told me. “When do you expect to have the report?”
“Couple months before all the toxicology is back.”
That didn’t mean I would wait a couple months to try to find out early results. It wasn’t a huge haul, but it was nice to have the information. Especially since it was a bonus.
My main reason for this conversation had been to give Mike time to pump Deputy Lloyd Sampson. I hoped I’d done that.
I HAD.
As I discovered when I found Mike waiting for me in the parking area for the sheriff’s department office.
The office, along with the jail, the Sherman Police Department, and other municipal offices occupied a modern addition behind the 1899 courthouse that showed its dignified front to a square on the main road through town.
“You didn’t have to kick me,” Mike said, starting his vehicle. “I’d already caught on to what you were up to. Next time, give me a look. I don’t have shins of steel.”
“Wimp. What did Deputy Sampson have to say?”
Alas, he qualified as only half a source: Willing, but not able to give much detail.
“They’re piecing together Landry’s last day or so,” Mike said. “He got into town Tuesday. They checked the motel he was staying at, didn’t find anything interesting in his room or belongings, except enough empty liquor bottles to have supplied a bar for a week. They’ve sealed it in case they want to go back over it.”
Good job, Richard .
“Yesterday morning, Landry had a long meeting with the rodeo committee. Shouting was heard by passersby. Committee members say it was business as usual. Later, he was heard shouting on his phone, something about he’d do what the hell he wanted to do.
“Had lunch at the Haber House Hotel with Stan Newton. On his way back, he stopped outside the rodeo grounds, was seen talking with or shouting at those protestors by the gate, depending on who you listen to.
“In the afternoon, he was heard shouting on his phone again, apparently at three or more people. Early evening, Oren Street arrived with the livestock, and like I said before, there was more shouting. Enough that the rodeo secretary told them to get away from the office so she could hear herself think.
“Had dinner at the Haber House Hotel alone. Tried to
“Will it hurt your investigation if I know?”
He considered. “I wouldn’t want it reported.”
“Here’s how we’ll work it. If you tell me something off the record, I won’t report it unless I get it from another source.” I preferred two other sources, one to say it, one to confirm it, but the population of Cottonwood County was small enough to keep the potential pool of sources a tad shallow. I left myself wiggle room.
“So what I’m about to tell you is off the record?”
“Off the record.”
“I called my sister Sandra.”
Not what I was expecting, but I stumbled along. “Is she in law enforcement?”
“No. She works for a doctor in Montana.”
I started to get impatient, then took another look—the guy was sleep-deprived and stressed. If I sighed too hard it might knock him over. “Why did you call Sandra, Richard?”
“To see when we could get Keith Landry in to see the doctor.”
Maybe he was past sleep-deprived. “Get him in for what?”
“An autopsy. A forensic autopsy, I mean. The hospital can do the other kind, but I didn’t want any chance of this being— The guy she works for is closest. But if he was backed up, I’d’ve gone to somebody else.”
“You aren’t satisfied the bulls were enough to cause death?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
He sounded weary. I decided to wrap this up. “Landry’s body has gone to a forensic pathologist in Montana.”
“Will go. About ten. After more preliminary work. The deputy coroner will go with, and Deputy Sampson.” A thin smile twisted his mouth. “His first autopsy. I warned Sandra.”
“And the forensic pathologist’s name is . . . ” He told me. “When do you expect to have the report?”
“Couple months before all the toxicology is back.”
That didn’t mean I would wait a couple months to try to find out early results. It wasn’t a huge haul, but it was nice to have the information. Especially since it was a bonus.
My main reason for this conversation had been to give Mike time to pump Deputy Lloyd Sampson. I hoped I’d done that.
I HAD.
As I discovered when I found Mike waiting for me in the parking area for the sheriff’s department office.
The office, along with the jail, the Sherman Police Department, and other municipal offices occupied a modern addition behind the 1899 courthouse that showed its dignified front to a square on the main road through town.
“You didn’t have to kick me,” Mike said, starting his vehicle. “I’d already caught on to what you were up to. Next time, give me a look. I don’t have shins of steel.”
“Wimp. What did Deputy Sampson have to say?”
Alas, he qualified as only half a source: Willing, but not able to give much detail.
“They’re piecing together Landry’s last day or so,” Mike said. “He got into town Tuesday. They checked the motel he was staying at, didn’t find anything interesting in his room or belongings, except enough empty liquor bottles to have supplied a bar for a week. They’ve sealed it in case they want to go back over it.”
Good job, Richard .
“Yesterday morning, Landry had a long meeting with the rodeo committee. Shouting was heard by passersby. Committee members say it was business as usual. Later, he was heard shouting on his phone, something about he’d do what the hell he wanted to do.
“Had lunch at the Haber House Hotel with Stan Newton. On his way back, he stopped outside the rodeo grounds, was seen talking with or shouting at those protestors by the gate, depending on who you listen to.
“In the afternoon, he was heard shouting on his phone again, apparently at three or more people. Early evening, Oren Street arrived with the livestock, and like I said before, there was more shouting. Enough that the rodeo secretary told them to get away from the office so she could hear herself think.
“Had dinner at the Haber House Hotel alone. Tried to
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