During most of this, Castle Rock's Finest stood around feeling like bumps on a log.
Henry Payton joined Alan on the sidelines during the conclusion of the oddly delicate ballet known as On-Scene Investigation.
"Lousy damned way to spend a Sunday afternoon," he said.
Alan nodded.
"I'm sorry the head moved on you. That was bad luck."
Alan nodded again.
"I don't think anyone's going to bother you about it, though.
You've got at least one good pic of the original position." He looked toward Norris, who was talking with Clut and the newly arrived John LaPointe. "You're just lucky that old boy there didn't put his finger over the lens."
"Aw, Norris is all right."
"So's K-Y jelly... in its place. Anyway, the whole thing looks pretty simple."
Alan agreed. That was the trouble; he had known that long before he and Norris finished their Sunday tour of duty in an alley behind Kennebec Valley Hospital. The whole thing was too pretty simple, maybe.
"You planning to attend the cutting party?" Henry asked.
"Yes. Is Ryan going to do it?"
"That's what I understand."
"I thought I might take Norris with me. The bodies will go to Oxford first, won't they?"
"Uh-huh. That's where we log them in."
"If Norris and I left now, we could be in Augusta before they get there."
Henry Payton nodded. "Why not? I think it's buttoned up here."
"I'd like to send one of my men with each of your CID teams.
As observers. Do you have a problem with that?"
Payton thought it over. "Nope-but who's going to keep the peace?
Ole Scat Thomas?"
Alan felt a sudden flash of something which was a little too hot to be dismissed as mere annoyance. It had been a long day, he'd listened to Henry rag on his deputies about as much as he wanted to... yet he needed to stay on Henry's good side in order to hitch a ride on what was technically a State Police case, and so he held his tongue.
"Come on, Henry. It's Sunday night. Even The Mellow Tiger's closed."
"Why are you so hot to stick with this, Alan? Is there something hinky about it? I understand there was bad feeling between the two women, and that the one on top already offed someone. Her husband, no less."
Alan thought about it. "No-nothing hinky. Nothing that I know about, anyway. It's just that..."
"It doesn't quite jell in your head yet?"
"Something like that."
"Okay. just as long as your men understand they're there to listen and no more."
Alan smiled a little. He thought of telling Payton that if he instructed Clut and John LaPointe to ask questions, they would probably run the other way, and decided not to. "They'll keep their lips zipped," he said. "You can count on it."
3
And so here they were, he and Norris Ridgewick, after the longest Sunday in living memory. But the day had one thing in common with the lives of Nettle and Wilma: it was over.
"Were you thinking about checking into a motel room for the night?" Norris asked hesitantly. Alan didn't have to be a mindreader to know what he was thinking about: the fishing he would miss tomorrow.
"Hell, no." Alan bent and picked up the gown he had used to prop the door open. "Let's beat feet."
"Great idea," Norris said, sounding happy for the first time since Alan had met him at the crime scene. Five minutes later they were headed toward Castle Rock along Route 43, the headlights of the County cruiser boring holes in the windy darkness. By the time they arrived, it had been Monday morning for almost three hours.
4
Alan pulled in behind the Municipal Building and got out of the cruiser. His station wagon was parked next to Norris's dilapidated VW Beetle on the far side of the lot.
"You headed right home?" he asked Norris.
Norris offered a small, embarrassed grin and dropped his eyes.
"Soon's I change into my civvies."
"Norris, how many times have I told you about using the men's room as a changing booth?"
"Come on, Alan-I don't do it all the time." They both knew, however, that Norris did just that.
Alan sighed. "Never mind-it's been a hell of a long day for you.
I'm sorry."
Norris shrugged. "It was murder. They don't happen around here very often. When they do, I guess everybody pulls together."
"Get Sandy or Sheila to write you up an overtime chit if either of them is still here."
"And give Buster something else to bitch about?" Norris laughed with some bitterness. "I think I'll pass. This one's on me, Alan."
"Has he been giving you shit?" Alan had forgotten all about the town's Head Selectman these last couple of days.
"No-but he gives me a real hairy eyeball when we pass on the street. If looks could kill, I'd be as dead as Nettle and Wilma."
"I'll write up the chit myself tomorrow morning."
"If your name's on it, that's okay," Norris said, starting for the door marked TOWN EMPLOYEES ONLY. "Goodnight, Alan."
"Good luck with the fishing."
Norris brightened at once. "Thanks-you should see the rod I got down at the new store, Alan-it's a dandy."