"Five'll get ya ten the sheriff's department is on Main Street… or First Street… or whatever they call their main street in Colville, and it'll have one big room and a small office for the sheriff… two cells, maybe three… let's see, uh… two deputies – one nearing retirement and one of them so young he's barely shaving…"
Mike was slouched in the passenger seat, head back and the fedora tilted forward over his closed eyes; his hands, fingers laced and thumbs steepled, lay across his stomach. Behind the dark glasses, Steve glanced across the front seat and grinned.
"The sheriff, well, he'll be an ex-big city cop. We'd've heard already if he was ex-SFPD so I'm thinking, oh, maybe L.A. but more probably Seattle or Portland. Did his twenty years… maybe twenty-five… pulled the pin and retired to a small town, probably his wife's hometown, but he got bored and when elections came up for a new sheriff in Colville, he threw his hat into the ring and – ta-da – he won." Mike used his right index finger to lift the front of his hat and his eyes slid towards his partner. "What'd'ya think?"
Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "I think you've been giving this way, way too much thought."
Mike laughed, letting the hat flop back down over his eyes and settling back in the seat.
The trip to Colville was expected to take a little less than six hours so, wanting to avoid San Francisco traffic and in no particular hurry, Steve picked Mike up at his house just after 10 and they hit the road, stopping at a restaurant just outside Ukiah for lunch.
Mike felt the car slow down and he raised his chin so he could see out from under the brim of his hat. The car turned off the 101 onto a two-lane blacktop.
"The sign says 15 miles to Colville," Steve told him.
"Good," the older man growled, sitting up and tilting his hat back. He looked out the side window. "Sure is pretty country up here. I've gone fishing around Eureka but never went inland before. You?"
"Naw, I stuck around Modesto when I was a kid and when I did hit the road with friends, if it wasn't to go back east for those civil rights marches I told you about, it was to Vegas, or Tahoe for skiing."
"Snow or water?"
"Both," Steve laughed and Mike joined him.
Finally a sign came into view, a large wooden creation that proudly announced all the civic organizations that had branches in Colville – Knights of Columbus, Odd Fellows, 4-H, Kiwanis, each of them now with a black X through their logos – and the population: the white number 1,650 had a black line painted through it and 638 was scrawled underneath.
The two detectives looked at each other silently; Mike sighed heavily and Steve tilted his head and shrugged. "Things don't look too promising in Colville," the younger man said softly.
"No, they sure don't, do they?" Mike asked rhetorically. "There's gotta be a story behind that." He was silent for a few seconds. "I, ah, I want to… modify my predictions – one deputy. The younger one. I bet they made the older one retire."
Steve's chuckle was dry as they drove slowly up the pothole-filled street into the center of town. More than half of the clapboard shops were shuttered and empty and only a few older people could be seen ambling along the crumbling sidewalks.
Mike raised a hand and pointed up the street to the left. "There, that red brick building up there? Bet that's the Sheriff's Department."
Steve glanced over and laughed softly, not at all surprised to see the large worn yellow and blue wooden sign reading Colville Police Department on the green lawn near the sidewalk as they got closer. With a pleased chuckle and smug grin, Mike stared at his partners profile as the younger man slid the car to the curb across the road.
They both glanced up and down the almost deserted street as they got out and crossed to the double wood-and-glass doors. Steve pulled one of the doors open and stepped back to let Mike enter first. There was one large room in front of them, behind a high wooden counter. Three wooden desks could be seen, two of them bare and none of them manned at the moment, and beyond them a glass-walled inner office with 'Sheriff John Manley' stenciled on the door.
"Can I help you?" came a pleasant female voice from somewhere to their right and a middle-aged grey-haired woman with glasses on a chain around her neck came into view from an unseen room. She approached the far side of the tall counter that separated the entranceway from the office and smiled broadly.
Flashing his most charming smile, Mike slipped the star and I.D. out of his pants pocket and flipped it open. "Ah, yes, I'm Lieutenant Stone and this is Inspector Keller," he cocked his head slightly in Steve's direction; the younger man smiled and nodded, "from the San Francisco Police Department. We're here to see Sheriff Manley."
Her grin grew even wider. "Oh yes, we've been expecting you," she chuckled warmly, then her smile wavered slightly, "but I'm afraid the Sheriff was called out unexpectedly. He's going to be tied up for a little bit – a domestic disturbance call," she leaned forward, glancing around almost furtively and lowering her voice. "We get a lot of them, I'm afraid." She stood straight again and her volume returned to normal; Mike nodded gravely as Steve smiled in commiseration. "If you gentlemen want, you can check into the motel and then come on back. The Sheriff should be here by then."
Mike glanced at Steve and nodded. "You know, that sounds like a great idea. Could you tell us where the motel is?"
"Why of course, Lieutenant. It's just straight down Main Street here," she pointed left, the direction their car was already pointing, "about, oh, a quarter mile. You really can't miss it, it's the only motel in town." She shrugged almost sadly.
"Thank you. And it's Mike, not Lieutenant, okay?"
She flustered slightly, one hand going to her heart. "Oh, all right… Mike." She almost giggled. "And you can call me Carole."
"Carole it is," Mike said with a grin and a nod.
"And I'm Steve," the younger detective said warmly with a heart-stopping smile and Carole flustered again.
"All right… Steve," she said quietly, biting her lower lip.
Glancing at his partner with a long-suffering smile and shake of his head, Mike cleared his throat. "We'll, ah, we'll head over to the motel and then come right back."
"Okay," Carole said, not taking her eyes from Steve, "and I'll, ah… I'll tell the Sheriff you're here if he gets back before you do," she finished, her gaze finally returning to the senior partner.
As they got back into the Galaxie, Mike looked across the front seat and chuckled softly. "I think I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you. Maybe Carole is the reason all those young men disappeared. What do you think?"
With a smirk and a heavy sigh, Steve managed to roll his eyes and shake his head as he turned the key, the engine roared to life and he pulled the sedan out onto the street. "Har-de-har-har. Alright, Nostradamus, what do you think the name of the motel is?"
Chuckling, Mike tilted his head up and froze momentarily, as if he was trying to visualize the answer. "Let's see, um… Starlight?"
The once-fancy neon and metal sign of the motel came into view, the VACANCY notification, illuminated in red, flashing on and off with an irritating inconsistency. The swirling cursive letters spelled out 'Starlite'. Mike started to chuckle and Steve shot a surprised and annoyed glare across the front seat.
As the Galaxie turned into the almost empty parking lot and slid to a stop in front of the office, Mike's soft chuckle turned into a full-throated laugh. "Okay, I confess, I knew the name before we left. It's in my notes."
Staring at his smug partner, Steve turned the car off then slapped the older man on the arm before they both got out and entered the office, Mike continuing to chuckle.
# # # # #
A black-and-white station wagon with a Colville Police Department seal on the front door was sitting in the small parking lot adjacent to the red brick building when they returned a little less than an hour later. Steve slipped the Galaxie into the space beside it.
Mike gave the station wagon a once over as he got out and headed towards the front doors. "That's seen better days," he said softly, nodding subtly towards it as Steve joined him and they entered the building.
Carole was standing behind the counter and her face lit up when she saw them approach. "Well, hello again," she gushed, her eyes and beaming face sliding from Mike to Steve as she tried to control an embarrassed giggle.
Mike glanced over his shoulder at his uncomfortable partner and dropped his head, trying to hide his bemused smile. He cleared his throat pointedly before looking up. "I see the Sheriff is back…?"
Carole tore her eyes from the handsome young cop. "Oh yes, he's in his office –"
"Lieutenant Stone?" A deep masculine voice filled the room and the two San Francisco detectives looked up as a tall, thickset, dark-haired middle-aged man in a brown and black uniform strode rapidly across the office towards them. Carole took a few steps back as the Sheriff approached the counter, his right hand outstretched.
"Yes," Mike answered, holding out his own right hand, which the Sheriff grabbed and pumped.
""John Manley. Boy, am I happy to see you fellas."
Grinning, Mike shook the proffered hand warmly, nodding towards the young man at his side. "Good to meet you, Sheriff. This is my partner, Inspector Keller."
"John, please call me John," Manley said with a smile as he released Mike's hand and turned to Steve. "Welcome to Colville, Inspector."
"Thank you. And it's Steve," he said as he shook the Sheriff's hand, his own almost disappearing in the large mitt of the man who almost made Mike look small.
Manley nodded. "Steve… thank you."
With a chuckle, Mike pointed at himself. "And Mike, okay?"
Manley released Steve's hand and laughed. "You got it." He lifted the partition on the counter and motioned with his head for the two detectives to join him.
As Manley led them towards the inner office, Mike asked casually with a backward glance at his partner, "So, John, have you been the Sheriff here for long?"
"Oh, just a little over two years. I was a detective up in Seattle for twenty and, after I put in for retirement, my wife and I decided to settle down here. I thought it was going to be a nice and easy retirement job." He stood just outside the office door and ushered his guests ahead of him into the small room. "Wow, was I wrong about that!" he grumbled good-naturedly as he closed the door and circled the desk to sit in the padded armchair.
As Mike began to sit in one of the wooden guest chairs, he glanced at his partner, trying to mask his self-satisfied smile by biting his lips and lowering his head. Steve stared at the top of the fedora, shaking his head and subtly clearing his throat.
Mike took his hat off and held it in his lap as his laughing eyes slid from his partner to the Sheriff, who had moved a file from a corner of his desk and dropped it closer to the two detectives. "So, I hear you have a problem?" he said amiably.
Manley sighed. "Well, that's what I hope you're here to tell us. I spent my entire career in Robbery, never worked a Homicide. So it's not my specialty. And in the two years I've been wearing this badge, we haven't had a homicide here… not one."
His eyes shifted from the senior partner to the junior, eyebrows raised.
Steve reached for the file. "That's an impressive record," he acknowledged with a nod, flipping the file open.
"Yeah," Manley agreed almost sadly. "And I'm hoping you gentleman can tell me if our record remains intact or not."
