Page 23 of Head Room
“As long as you’re not worried, Elizabeth...”Mom said, clearly wondering how I could not be worried.
“Just talking.He wasnotcalling to ask my permission,” Dad said in a way that made me sure they’d discussed how Tom was not asking my father for my hand in marriage long enough and thoroughly enough that he might as well have.
“Dad—”
Mom’s next words cut off my remonstration.“I thought you should be informed.”
“Absolutely, Mom,” I said with extra enthusiasm.“You know I’m a fan of being informed.”
I hoped my father felt the double edge of those words to the bone.
“Yes, I do,” she said more strongly.“You’ve always preferred to know the bad news to having it hidden from you.”
I’d arrived at the sheriff’s department parking area it shared with the courthouse, providing the perfect excuse to wrap up the call without getting lost in wedding one-more-things that would put Columbo to shame.
****
As I exitedmy SUV, I recognized the man coming toward me from the direction of the sheriff’s department.
This can be a tough situation for a journalist.
All my dealings with and everything I’d learned about Jay Haus screamed sleazeball.Among other things, he’d represented Tom’s ex when she’d tried to limit his custody of Tamantha.But I needed to contact him at times for a comment on stories when he represented people accused of newsworthy crimes.
In other words, I couldn’t act on my personal inclination to ignore him.
I said hello, without a smile.
He didn’t say hello or smile.
In fact, he appeared decidedly ruffled.His tie askew, his face flushed, his eyes angry.
The Shelton Effect at work over a client of Haus’?
If so, it was a reminder that the Shelton Effect could work for good in the world now and then.
I passed the door to the sheriff’s department and went on to the fire department around the corner to talk to the firefighters first.Before Shelton knew what I knew.
He’d hear about me coming here, sooner than I’d like.Then he would warn off firefighters from talking to me.But at least I’d have this first shot.
I passed a door that looked like it led to a front office and went on to the first of several open mega-sized garage-type doors.
Before my eyes adjusted, I heard voices coming from deeper inside.
A female voice rose into aggrieved syllables.A few coalesced into words.
“—papers—”
“—filing—”
“—names—”
“—mail—”
“—too many—”
In between, a male voice sounded.None of his words discernible, though his tone might have intended to be placating.
I slowed, widening my eavesdropping window.I also sidestepped to be close to the side of a firetruck so I wasn’t as visible to the talkers.
