‘Then check,’ Johnny said. He caught Bannerman’s eyes with his own and held them.
‘Check it out. Show me I got it wrong.’ He swallowed. ‘Check the times and dates against Frank’s work schedule. Can you do that?’
Grudgingly, Bannerman said, ‘The time cards in the back closet there go back fourteen or fifteen years. I guess I could check it.’
‘Then do it.’
‘Mister …’ He paused. ‘Johnny, if you knew Frank, you’d laugh at yourself. I mean it. It’s not just me, you ask anybody…’
‘If I’m wrong, I’ll be glad to admit it.’
‘This is crazy,’ Bannerman muttered, but he went to the storage closet where the old time cards were kept and opened the door.
11.
Two hours passed. It was now nearly one o’clock in the morning. Johnny had called his father and told him he would find a place to sleep in Castle Rock; the storm had leveled off at a single furious pitch, and driving back would be next to impossible.
‘What’s going on over there?’ Herb asked. ‘Can you tell me?’
‘I better not over the phone, Dad.’
‘All right, Johnny. Don’t exhaust yourself.’
‘No.’
But he was exhausted. He was more tired than he could remember being since those early days in physical therapy with Eileen Magown. A nice woman, he thought randomly. A nice friendly woman, at least until I told her that her house was burning down. After that she had become distant and awkward. She had thanked him, sure, but – had she ever touched him after that? Actually touched him? Johnny didn’t think so. And it would be the same with Bannerman when this thing was over. Too bad. Like Eileen, he was a fine man. But people get very nervous around people who can just touch things and know all about them.
‘It doesn’t prove a thing,’ Bannerman was saying now. There was a sulky, little-boy rebelliousness in his voice that made Johnny want to grab him and shake him until he rattled. But he was too tired.
They were looking down at a rough chart Johnny had made on the back of a circular for used state police interceptors. Stacked untidily by Bannerman’s desk were seven or eight cartons of old time cards, and sitting in the top half of Bannerman’s in/out basket were Frank Dodd’s cards, going back to 1971, when he had joined the sheriff’s department. The chart looked like this:
THE MURDERS – FRANK DODD
Alma Frechette (waitress) Then working at Main Street
3:00PM, 11/12/70 Gulf Station
Pauline Toothaker Off-duty
10:00AM, 11/17/71
Cheryl Moody U.H.S. student) Off-duty
2:00 PM, 12/16/71
Carol Dunbarger (H.S. student) Two-week vacation period
11/?/74
Etta Ringgold (teacher) Regular duty tours
10/29(?)/75
Mary Kate Hendrasen Off-duty
10:10 AM, 12/17/75
All times are ‘estimated time of death’ figures supplied by State Medical Examiner
‘No, it doesn’t prove anything,’ Johnny agreed, rubbing his temples. ‘But it doesn’t exactly rule him out, either.’
Bannerman tapped the chart. ‘When Miss Ringgold was killed, he was on duty.’
‘Yeah, if she really was killed on the twenty-ninth of October. But it might have been the twenty-eighth, or the twenty-seventh. And even if he was on duty, who suspects a cop?’
Bannerman was looking at the little chart very carefully.
‘What about the gap?’ Johnny said. ‘The two-year gap?’
Bannerman thumbed the time cards. ‘Frank was right here on duty all during 1973 and 1974. You saw that.’
‘So maybe the urge didn’t come on him that year. At least, so far as we know.’
‘So far as we know, we don’t know anything,’ Banner-man contradicted quickly.
‘But what about 1972? Late 1972 and early 1973? There are no time cards for that period.
Was he on vacation?’
‘No,’ Bannerman said. ‘Frank and a guy named Tom Harrison took a semester course in Rural Law Enforcement at a branch of the University of Colorado in Pueblo. It’s the only place in the country where they offer a deal like that. It’s an eight-week course. Frank and Tom were out there from October 15 until just about Christmas. The state pays part, the county pays part, and the U.S. government pays part under the Law Enforcement Act of 1971.I picked Harrison – he’s chief of police over in Gates Falls now – and Frank. Frank almost didn’t go, because he was worried about his mother being alone. To tell you the truth, I think she tried to persuade him to stay home. I talked him into it. He wants to be a career officer, and something like the Rural Law Enforcement course looks damn good on your record. I remember that when he and Tom got back in December, Frank had a low-grade virus and he looked terrible. He’d lost twenty pounds. Claimed no one out there in cow country could cook like his mom.