Let Loose (16 page)

Daniel’s pen moved to hover above his
notepad. “So you think Ethel is guilty? What exactly has she said
to you that makes you think that?”

I stood with my arms crossed and my toes
tapping for five seconds before I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Guilty of what? We don’t know why she was arrested!”

The outburst was embarrassing, but it got
results. After Daniel got done grinning at his superior knowledge,
he spilled the beans. “Ethel is a snowmobile thief.”

He had to be kidding. “Ethel Monroe?” I held
my hand out to my side. “So big? Eighty something?”

Still grinning, Daniel nodded. “That’s her.
From what I’ve heard, it started with her friends and then she
expanded.”

“Her friends? Like Carol?”

“Yes. There were others.” He flipped back a
page in his notebook. “Susan Olgivy. Looks like in her case it was
a son-in-law, and a neighbor of Rose Pritzer. Then there was a Fitz
McGowan, nephew to a Molly and Milly McGowan. All three times,
Ethel had been at the house or near the house right before the
sleds were taken.”

“But I took her and Carol snowmobile shopping
at the Swap in Bozeman.”

“Interesting.” He scribbled something down.
“Maybe she was thinking of going for a bigger target. Did she talk
to anyone there?”

Like I’d tell him who Ethel had talked
to.

I, of course, did not believe for a second
that the do-good goddess, Ethel Monroe, was a thief.

“You don’t seriously believe that Ethel did
this, do you? How could she?”

He grunted out a laugh. “Have you met her?
She’s tough. She didn’t like a story I did last year and she rapped
me on the head with that cane of hers. Hard.”

Yet one more example of Ethel’s magnanimous
ways, putting Daniel in his place, a.k.a. looking out for what was
best for all of us.

Rhonda set down the book she was holding and
walked around the counter so she was standing beside me. “Have you
ever ridden a snowmobile? Ethel may be tough in attitude, but she
doesn’t even drive herself around anymore. That’s how Lucy met her.
And if Carol’s husband’s snowmobiles were stolen from his house,
someone would have to have hauled them off in a trailer.”

“So she has an accomplice. Would you like to
confess to that?” He, of course, looked at me.

I lifted my lip in my best imitation of Fluff
putting Zef in his place. It didn’t have quite the same effect on
Daniel as it did on Zef, but it made me feel better.

“Should I take that as a yes?” he asked.

Rhonda, reading my mood, slipped her arm
through Daniel’s and led him to the door. “Have you ever considered
yoga?” she asked him. “And a dairy-free diet? Both of those might
help to clear your mind so you can see the answers to your problem
more clearly.”

Obviously confused by Rhonda’s holistic
approach to getting rid of him, Daniel glanced back over his
shoulder at me. I, however, was done with him. He’d told me what I
needed to know. Until, of course, the next time, but I’d worry
about that then.

I turned my back and stared at the wall until
I heard the chimes signal that the door had closed behind him.

Rhonda and I spun toward each other. “Ethel a
snowmobile thief?” we both exclaimed, then stood shaking our heads
and sharing our mutual disbelief.

After a moment, we both sat down.

“So?” Rhonda asked. “What should we do?”

I loved that she knew me well enough to know
that I would need to do something.

“I could call Peter, but you know he won’t
listen to me.”

She nodded. “I wonder...”

“What?”

“Well, gossip had the snowmobile thefts tied
to Red’s murder. You don’t think the police think Ethel was
involved with that, do you?”

“They couldn’t.” But I couldn’t see how they
could think she was out stealing snowmobiles either. “They might.
She’s over 80,” I said.

“And so small,” Rhonda added.

We stared at each other another few
minutes.

“We need to get her out,” I said.

“Definitely.”

We grabbed our bags and headed to the police
station.

o0o

The police station was crowded. Ethel’s crew
sat on the benches surrounding the waiting area, knitting, reading
and murmuring among themselves, while Stone, Peter, and George went
about looking official. Daniel hovered somewhere in between the two
groups, ears perked for a dropped secret from either.

Rhonda and I boldly tromped to the desk.
Ignoring Stone and Peter, I addressed George. “We’re here to see
Ethel Monroe.”

Stone snickered. Maybe it was a grunt, but it
came across as a snicker.

George shifted his eyes to the side,
reminding me that the two detectives were behind him - as if I
couldn’t see them for myself. “Inmate visitation is processed
downstairs.”

I turned to look at the women lining the
walls. “Then why are they here?”

“Inmate visitation is processed downstairs,”
he replied, widening his eyes as if I didn’t get that he purposely
wasn’t telling me anything of use.

“Then why—” I started again.

Stone interrupted. “This isn’t the Hilton. If
someone is brought in, they get processed, get to meet with their
attorney and maybe one other person.” He motioned to Ethel’s
friends. “We don’t do coffee klatches.”

Susan, who had appeared to be reading,
carefully placed her ereader into her patchwork tote and stood. “We
don’t do coffee klatches either, Detective.”

Molly and Milly looked up from their
knitting, eyes wide, while Carol hurried over to stand next to
Susan and whisper something in her ear.

I wasn’t sure what Carol said to her, but it
seemed to calm the other woman down, at least enough that she took
her seat. She didn’t, however, pull her ereader back out or take
her distrustful gaze off of Stone.

I knew I’d liked these ladies for a
reason.

Peter, obviously more in tune to impending
trouble than his fellow detective, stepped from behind the desk and
grabbed me by the elbow. “You need to go home,” he said. “You’re
stirring up the...”

“What?” I asked, daring him to say something
he’d regret.

He sighed. “Ladies.”

“Well, the ladies and I want to see
Ethel.”

“You can’t. Her case is being processed.”

“And then?”

“And then she’ll go before a judge, bail will
be set... You know how it works.”

I did, but Ethel was a special case. “At her
age...” I argued.

“There is no ‘at her age’ with Ethel Monroe,”
Peter informed me. “The woman is tougher than a microwaved
steak.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not
leaving until Ethel’s released.”

Shaking his head, he motioned toward an empty
bench. “Then join the rest of them.”

o0o

Four hours later, I knew I was going to have
to give up and leave. The dogs had been shut up and alone in my
house too long. It wasn’t an “accident” I was worried about so much
as intentional mischief.

Rhonda, sensing my dilemma, leaned toward me.
“No one will judge you. The dogs come first.”

She was right, of course, and Ethel for sure
would understand. I moved to my feet and reached in my pocket for
my keys.

As I did, Stone walked through the lobby. “I
see the herd has thinned.”

Daniel had left first, but then no one had
expected him to stay. Besides, first word that Ethel was getting
out and he’d be back.

Carol had left too, but I didn’t think it was
from lack of loyalty. My guess was that she had something in the
works to help her friend, an attorney or money for bail, or maybe
some kind of evidence to prove Ethel’s innocence.

And then there was me... Under Stone’s
perusal, I lifted the hand holding my keys and stretched. “Benches
are a bit hard,” I said. Then I stretched the other side too. Then
I sat down.

“Can’t do it,” I muttered to Rhonda. “He’ll
think he’s won.”

She nodded and reached for her bag. “Then
we’ll just have to call in the troops.”

Half an hour later, Betty waltzed into the
station wearing purple fur and carrying a cardboard box. With the
box tucked under one arm, she handed each of Ethel’s friends what
appeared to be a paper-wrapped sandwich.

When she reached me, I could see the box was
still full of sandwiches. “You might want to go back for a few
more,” I said, ever the smart ass.

“You think?” She frowned. “Maybe you’re
right.”

The front door opened again. Phyllis walked
in, carrying a second box and leading a stream of people behind
her.

Old, young, male, female, white, native
American. There were even dogs wearing service vests and three cats
in carriers.

“Ethel has helped a lot of people and a lot
of people believe in Ethel,” Betty said before hurrying toward the
growing crowd to finish her sandwich giveaway.

After that, the “processing” Ethel was going
through seemed to move faster, and somehow the need for her to go
before a judge was waved. Although I suspected it was more
over-ruled by the need to clear the station of her waiting
visitors.

It was dark when George escorted her out to
her awaiting fans, but Ethel looked none the worse for her time in
the clinker. She waved her cane and murmured what looked like a
reprimand in George’s ear before patting him on the arm and
toddling to the waiting arms of her crew.

I let things rest through the weekend,
minding my own business, literally: working at Dusty Deals and
trying to keep my home from falling down due to an excess of husky
energy.

But while Ethel’s release had been rewarding,
release didn’t equal free, not with charges still hanging over her
head, and there was also the matter of Red’s murder and his team
still under my care.

So, come Monday morning, when there was still
no news on the case, I couldn’t resist getting involved again.

My gut - along with the rumor mill - told me
Red’s murder and the snowmobile thefts had to be connected.
Investigating who was behind the thefts, would accomplish more than
one goal, I reasoned. First, vindicating Ethel. Second, maybe
aiding in clearing Red’s case so his team would be free to go to a
new and loving home. I’d worry about finding that home a little
later.

Still in my jammies, I sat down at my home
computer and started searching.

Two hours later, I had a list of over a dozen
cases of stolen snowmobiles this winter alone. And that was by
owner; if you calculated it by actual number of missing sleds, it
went higher. I also hadn’t found a mention of the theft at Craig
Ryan’s, which meant there were probably other cases that I’d missed
during my search.

Making the thefts a much bigger issue than I
would have guessed.

Another surprising fact was that the
incidents weren’t just in Helena. They were all over the state.
There was even one reported at the Reservation near Fort Peck, a
good 350 or more miles away.

The incidents being as spread out as they
were said this wasn’t a local crime. Obviously another point in
Ethel’s defense. She needed me to drive her to Bozeman. How would
she have gotten to Fort Peck? Of course, as an outlier, I could
probably mark it off as coincidence. I drew a line through it and
then sat for a minute, thinking of the best way to evaluate the
data. Visions of every FBI drama I’d ever seen flashed through my
head.

If ever there was information calling out for
a bulletin board and some push pins, this was it.

Happy with my opportunity to play with office
supplies, I stepped over the various dog bodies passed out around
my living room to gather my supplies. A few minutes later, a
bulletin board that I’d had since my teen years was propped on my
couch. I yanked the Montana page from an atlas that had previously
been living on my Jeep’s floor and carefully pinned it to the
board. Then I stuck a pin in the general area of each theft and,
using yarn from last year’s venture into crochet, connected one to
the other.

A fascinating design appeared right before my
eyes.

A design that when I blinked and tilted my
head to the side, and then stood back and squinted some more, told
me absolutely, positively nothing.

I sighed, went to get a glass of Diet Pepsi
and milk and, thus fortified, returned to my staring.

A definite pattern appeared. Kind of like a
star with one long tail, a few short ones, and a big fat center.
What would the FBI make of that?

I took another slug of soda and milk.

The big fat center was Helena. No doubt that
most of the thefts had been here. The long tail was Fort Peck. (I
had decided to include it after all.) The shorter ones led to Great
Falls and Bozeman. Actually, there was a bit of a cluster in
Bozeman too...

That probably meant something. To
someone.

Unfortunately, I apparently was not that
someone.

I looked through my list of addresses again.
Carol was an obvious choice to talk to, but I felt like if she knew
anything that would help Ethel, she would have already shared it
with the police. Besides, with some knowledge of her and her
husband, it seemed the best plan might be to talk to someone else
and see if I could find anything they had in common with Carol and
her husband besides owning snowmobiles. Daniel had mentioned other
members of Ethel’s crew and their supposed relationships to the
thefts.

If that was true, it would definitely make
things worse for Ethel.

He had only named one victim though: Fitz
McGowan. Luckily, Fitz was on my list and he didn’t live all that
far away.

I headed out with Kiska snuffling along at my
side. I’d been feeling guilty for leaving him home so much. The
rest of the dogs... not so much. I left them at home with Fluff, of
course, in charge.

o0o

Fitz’s address was a lot closer than I’d
realized. Probably five miles as the Steller’s Jay flies. The turn
off, in fact, was only a little past the motel where Martin was
staying.