Page 17 of Vanish From Sight
“Ah. Right.” She smiled. “Yes, the lake crosses into their jurisdiction. It looks as if we will be working together on this one. Though I have to say it seems a little premature to be requesting State’s assistance when we still haven’t identified the victim.”
“That’s a conversation you’d need to have with the chief of police in High Peaks.”
“I will. In the meantime, we’re certainly grateful for any help.”
She released his hand, turned and went back into her office.
Callie hollered to another deputy and had them take the evidence, tag it and book it in. “Well, I should…” Before Callie could finish what she was saying, they were startled by a rowdy noise. They turned to see two men enter the lobby. One was short, a burly man with a scraggly beard. The one behind him was bald with a ginger goatee.
“I did nothing wrong!” the burly man cried, his voice echoing through the room as he was pushed toward the front desk. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Aye, just keep moving before I put you on your ass,” the second man said firmly and aggressively in a Scottish accent, but with a hint of playful humor.
“Who’s that?” Noah asked.
Callie smiled with amusement. “That’s our detective.”
Despite his small stature, the man had a wiry strength and quickness to his movement. He was in his early fifties but moved with the agility of a younger man. He was sporting a drab grey suit with a red tie. His shoes were polished to a high shine and from all the pushing back and forth, Noah noticed his socks peeking out were mismatched, a bright plaid.
“Settle down, sir,” the detective hollered. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
The suspect didn’t hear him or refused to listen. He shouted and pulled away; his face red with anger.
The struggle only intensified as the larger man pushed back.
“Stop resisting!”
Several bystanders waiting in the lobby glanced over in alarm, but quickly looked away as Noah swung the door open and charged in to help.
“Ah, I don’t need help, lad, I’ve got this.”
Noah chuckled, hearing his thick Scottish accent. “Looks like it,” Noah said, helping him bring the guy to the front desk to book him in.
The suspect let loose with multiple curse words and then followed up with, “I can’t understand a D-damn word he’ssaying,” he said with a stutter. “And I don’t think he U-understands me either. Can you tell him I haven’t done anything wrong?”
“What’s he here for?” Noah asked.
The detective regarded Noah. “Not that I need to explain to you, but dog theft.”
“I didn’t steal any dogs. I keep telling you that.”
“Oh no, so those mutts in the back of your van are yours? You’re a dog walker, is that it?” He roared with laughter. “You must think I’m an idiot. You can explain this to a judge on Monday. Until then you can think about changing your story in the comfort of our county jail. We’ll book him in, Maisie, on theft.”
“I didn’t steal. I keep telling you that.”
“You sure do,” he said before calling for another deputy to take over so he could straighten out his suit which was now a crumpled mess.
“Noah Sutherland. State investigator.” He extended a hand.
“Angus McKenzie. But folks call me Gus.” He looked down at his clothes. “Damn, idiot ripped my shirt. I’m going to bill you for that,” he shouted over Noah’s shoulder.
“Bill me for this!” the guy replied, sticking up two fingers while his wrists were cuffed and he was hauled away by a deputy.
Noah laughed. “Uh, some things never change.”
“Nope. No they don’t.”
“I don’t recall seeing you here a few months back,” Noah said.
