Page 18 of Deadly Deception
Finally, Henson appeared interested and asked, “Vanja?”
“Yes.”
“Fucking shit.” Henson ran his palm over his shorn hair. “That’s impossible. Vanja’s dead. Long fucking gone. Vanja was taken care of thirty years ago, maybe longer. You’re lying.”
“He’s not,” Boone said. “I’m not saying that it truly was this Vanja person, only that Elias Hemsworth believes what he’s saying is fact.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Sheriff Henson said, “Great. Now we’ve got a corpse accusing a dead guy of his murder. I’ve heard enough. Let the bastard go.”
I think Boone chafed at the order but complied anyway. “Elias Michael Hemsworth, I release your soul.”
Instead of falling back to the table, Hemsworth’s corpse remained frozen in a sitting position.
“Christ, that’s disturbing,” Henson muttered before walking to the door and hollering, “Stinson, get your ass in here.”
A young officer with a name badge that said “Stinson” practically ran through the door. His words caught in his throat when he saw Hemsworth’s body stuck in a sitting position.
Opening his mouth a couple of times, Stinson finally managed a breathy, “Sheriff, what is—”
“Stay with the corpse until the M.E. gets here.” Turning his back on the obviously wary Officer Stinson, Henson waved to Boone and myself and said, “You two, my office. Now.”
“He could at least say please,” Boone said, not keeping his voice that low.
“He could have,” I answered just as loudly. I doubted Sheriff Henson gave a shit what I thought about his manners.
“Tompkins!” Henson shouted as we walked down the hall to an office with the name “Sheriff Alfonse Henson” etched onto the glass door.
I held the door open for Boone as he walked in. I followed and Captain Tompkins brought up the rear. There were only two free chairs across from Henson’s desk, and I offered one to Boone and the other to Tompkins. I remained standing behind Boone. After Boone sat, I pulled out a piece of hard candy I had stowed away in my jacket pocket and handed it to him. Boone stared up at me gratefully and he mouthed a silent “thank you” that warmed my chest.
Tompkins’s gaze flicked from me to the sheriff before he finally said, “I’m guessing that didn’t go the way you though it would, Alfonse.” I wasn’t sure if my old captain was truly on a first name basis with Henson, or if he’d simply used the sheriff’s first name as a snide dig.
“What the fuck did I agree to, Shane?” Henson’s exasperated tone and the use of Tompkins’s first name made me think the two of them knew each other on a more personal level.
Tompkins spread his arms wide and said, “You agreed to find the truth. That’s why Necromancer Boone is here.”
The sheriff leaned back into his chair, and I was impressed the thing was sturdy enough to hold his weight. “The truth? That’s a funny and often elusive mistress to hunt down.” Rubbing his face, Henson’s smooth shave didn’t so much as bristle. “I can live another hundred years and hope I don’t see that shit again.” Henson’s glare focused on Boone.
I could feel Boone’s tension when I placed my hands on his shoulders. “We all have our own particular talents,” Boone said.
“That’s more curse than talent.”
“Call it what you will, it got you the answer you needed.”
Henson’s lips curled into a sneer. “Says you. How do I know you didn’t manipulate Elias’s soul into saying whateveryou wanted it to?” Henson shook his head. “It’s been thirty-plus years and Vanja’s name is still something that’s generally only spoken in whispered corners and darkened rooms. You want to know what I just heard in there? Fear and superstition. It wouldn’t have been hard for you to find that name and plant it in that corpse’s brain.”
“Actually, that wouldn’t just behard; it would be impossible,” Boone answered defensively. “I can’t make the dead lie. No one can. Some don’t want to tell the truth either. I can force them to do that, but not to lie.”
“Again, says you.” Henson was being a stubborn ass.
Staying where I was, I kept my hands on Boone’s shoulders, hoping I was being reassuring. “I can give you my current captain’s information. Captain Cicely will be happy to back up what Boone’s telling you. He’s helped with several cases within my precinct.”
“He’s not feeding you a line,” Tompkins said, stepping in. “I’ve known Franklin O’Hare for over a decade, and if he’s got a fault, it’s being too honest.”
I didn’t count that as a fault, but I knew others did.
Henson eyed Tompkins, weighing his words and how much faith to place in them. Finally, he appeared to come to a decision and with a firm nod, answered, “Okay, I can buy that HemsworthbelievesVanja killed him. I’m not willing to go any further than that. Shit, I should have recorded that interaction. A necromancer’s word alone won’t stand up in court.”
“No,” Boone answered, “but you witnessed it. Some judges will allow it into evidence.” Boone shrugged. “I don’t know about local judges. It’s a state-by-state legal issue.”
