The look on Lloyd Sadler’s face when he stepped through the conference room door told me he wasn’t a happy camper. Well, that made two of us.
“The interrogation room wasn’t available?” He glared at Gabe, who shrugged.
“I just thought everyone would be more comfortable here,” he said. “If you want to move, I suppose—”
“It’s fine.” Sadler interrupted.
As the chief moved to the chair at the head of the table, Gabe’s eyes met mine, and I saw the corner of his lips twitch. Well, whaddya know, I thought. The chief doesn’t have him completely under his thumb.I gave him a quick smile to let him know I appreciated his act of rebellion, even if it was too little, too late.
“You can go, Russell,” the chief said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“It’s usually a good idea to have two people sit in on—”
Again, the chief interrupted before Gabe could complete his sentence. I guess Mama Sadler never taught her boy any manners.
“I’m well acquainted with how to question witnesses,” Sadler said. “And I’m sure you have work to do.”
“Sure thing.” Gabe spoke the words in such a clipped tone that I expected him to follow it with a salute. He gave me a last look before he stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
“I see you’ve brought your attorney with you, Ms. Fontaine,” Sadler said, his eyes on the folder he’d laid on the table in front of him. He opened it and made a show of looking through the papers inside. “Do you think you need one?”
“I can’t imagine why I would,” I said, “but I like to be prepared.”
“And I’d like to know why my client has been brought here today,” July said, his tone full of righteous indignation. I keep forgetting to ask him if they have to take special diction classes in law school to get the tone just right. “Erica has a business to run, and this is taking her away from that. I informed her she did not have to acquiesce to your demands, but she believes in cooperating and doing her civic duty.”
“That business you referred to may have played a part in the death of one of our councilmen,” Sadler said, looking at me for the first time since he’d stepped into the room. His dark brown eyes and general expression were so cold I started to tell him the city was wasting money on the A/C. They could just have him move around the station and sit in the various rooms for fifteen minutes or so each to cool them off. “Maybe your client will cooperate and tell us how that happened.”
I opened my mouth to tell the chief what I thought of him, but July put a hand on my arm. He probably wanted to put it over my mouth, so I appreciated his restraint.
“We know about Ralph Waites’s untimely demise,” July said in a tone appropriate for delivering a eulogy. “It’s unfortunate and very sad for his family and for Waterton. But I fail to see the connection between my client, her business, and Mr. Waites’s death.”
“The connection is the alcohol that was found in Ralph’s bloodstream.” Lloyd Sadler sat back in his chair, a pleased look on his face. “People who were at the social event after the council meeting have told us that wine was served by your client and the Fogarty woman. And possibly not just wine.”
“What?” I felt my blood pressure start to rise. “Not just wine? Of course, we weren’t just serving wine. In fact, we weren’t serving wine at all. We served soda—er, pop—water, coffee, and snacks. Ms. Sellers and her people provided the wine and people served themselves. The Shelf was hired to cater the meet and greet, and the last I checked, there was no law against it.”
“No, but there is a law against serving alcohol to someone who’s already had too much. Perhaps you’re not aware that there have been charges brought in several states against bar owners who continued to serve inebriated patrons and those patrons were later involved in traffic accidents.”
“I just told you, the Shelf didn’t provide the wine. If you check the liquor laws, you’ll find that a non-profit organization can give away liquor if they want to, and they don’t need a license to do it. Besides, Ralph was not drunk when he left the warehouse.”
“So you say.” Sadler shuffled some more of his folder papers around.
From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see what—if anything—was written on the papers. If I had to guess, I’d say they were blank and just being used as a prop to scare me into—what? Confessing that I’d gotten Ralph drunk, lured him to the dock, clobbered him over the head, and dunked him in the drink?
“Plenty of people talked to Ralph after the meeting,” I said. “I’m sure any of them will tell you he was not drunk.”
“Ralph Waites was an alcoholic,” Sadler said. “He had been for over twenty years. He’d probably built up a tolerance for liquor to the point that the average person wouldn’t recognize when he’d had enough. But as a bar owner and bartender, you should have.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was bound and determined to make me guilty for Ralph’s death. I knew Lloyd Sadler was a born-again Christian who thought liquor was the devil’s brew and anyone who sold it was a servant of Satan himself, but telling me I should recognize too much alcohol in a man who could hide it as well as he claimed Ralph could was a stretch.
“I only saw Ralph have one glass of wine,” I said at the same time July said, “Just exactly how much alcohol was found in Mr. Waites’s body?”
Now that was the right question, and I should have thought of it myself.
“Enough,” Sadler said, “to indicate he’d been inebriated the night before. The human body metabolizes alcohol at the rate of approximately one standard drink per hour. The fact Ralph Waites’s blood still showed there was alcohol in his system the morning he was found proves he was intoxicated the evening before.”
“But he only had one glass of wine,” I repeated. “He didn’t stay long after the meeting ended.”
“You mean he didn’t stay long after the two of you had your disagreement?”
“We’re done here.” July pushed his chair back and stood. “Unless you’re arresting my client, we’re leaving.”
“No, wait a minute, July,” I said. He gave me a look that clearly said, “shut up,” but I chose to ignore it. I turned back to Sadler. “Yes, we had a disagreement. I wanted lights installed in the park, and he didn’t. You know very well what our ‘disagreement’ was about because you were there and didn’t open your mouth about the lights even though there’s been reports of drug deals going on in the park. I would think as police chief, you’d want the park to be well lit.”
The chief opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“And since you were there, maybe you should have noticed that Ralph was intoxicated--if he was. Maybe you should have stopped him from getting a glass of wine, and maybe you should have taken him home or called Mose to come get him. Since you’re a police officer, I would expect you would recognize when a man had had too much, and I would think you wouldn’t want to take the chance that an inebriated man would get behind the wheel of his car.”
I looked at July.
“Seems to me like I’m not the only one who might have been shirking my duty last night. Doesn’t it seem that way to you, July?”
“The interrogation room wasn’t available?” He glared at Gabe, who shrugged.
“I just thought everyone would be more comfortable here,” he said. “If you want to move, I suppose—”
“It’s fine.” Sadler interrupted.
As the chief moved to the chair at the head of the table, Gabe’s eyes met mine, and I saw the corner of his lips twitch. Well, whaddya know, I thought. The chief doesn’t have him completely under his thumb.I gave him a quick smile to let him know I appreciated his act of rebellion, even if it was too little, too late.
“You can go, Russell,” the chief said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“It’s usually a good idea to have two people sit in on—”
Again, the chief interrupted before Gabe could complete his sentence. I guess Mama Sadler never taught her boy any manners.
“I’m well acquainted with how to question witnesses,” Sadler said. “And I’m sure you have work to do.”
“Sure thing.” Gabe spoke the words in such a clipped tone that I expected him to follow it with a salute. He gave me a last look before he stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
“I see you’ve brought your attorney with you, Ms. Fontaine,” Sadler said, his eyes on the folder he’d laid on the table in front of him. He opened it and made a show of looking through the papers inside. “Do you think you need one?”
“I can’t imagine why I would,” I said, “but I like to be prepared.”
“And I’d like to know why my client has been brought here today,” July said, his tone full of righteous indignation. I keep forgetting to ask him if they have to take special diction classes in law school to get the tone just right. “Erica has a business to run, and this is taking her away from that. I informed her she did not have to acquiesce to your demands, but she believes in cooperating and doing her civic duty.”
“That business you referred to may have played a part in the death of one of our councilmen,” Sadler said, looking at me for the first time since he’d stepped into the room. His dark brown eyes and general expression were so cold I started to tell him the city was wasting money on the A/C. They could just have him move around the station and sit in the various rooms for fifteen minutes or so each to cool them off. “Maybe your client will cooperate and tell us how that happened.”
I opened my mouth to tell the chief what I thought of him, but July put a hand on my arm. He probably wanted to put it over my mouth, so I appreciated his restraint.
“We know about Ralph Waites’s untimely demise,” July said in a tone appropriate for delivering a eulogy. “It’s unfortunate and very sad for his family and for Waterton. But I fail to see the connection between my client, her business, and Mr. Waites’s death.”
“The connection is the alcohol that was found in Ralph’s bloodstream.” Lloyd Sadler sat back in his chair, a pleased look on his face. “People who were at the social event after the council meeting have told us that wine was served by your client and the Fogarty woman. And possibly not just wine.”
“What?” I felt my blood pressure start to rise. “Not just wine? Of course, we weren’t just serving wine. In fact, we weren’t serving wine at all. We served soda—er, pop—water, coffee, and snacks. Ms. Sellers and her people provided the wine and people served themselves. The Shelf was hired to cater the meet and greet, and the last I checked, there was no law against it.”
“No, but there is a law against serving alcohol to someone who’s already had too much. Perhaps you’re not aware that there have been charges brought in several states against bar owners who continued to serve inebriated patrons and those patrons were later involved in traffic accidents.”
“I just told you, the Shelf didn’t provide the wine. If you check the liquor laws, you’ll find that a non-profit organization can give away liquor if they want to, and they don’t need a license to do it. Besides, Ralph was not drunk when he left the warehouse.”
“So you say.” Sadler shuffled some more of his folder papers around.
From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see what—if anything—was written on the papers. If I had to guess, I’d say they were blank and just being used as a prop to scare me into—what? Confessing that I’d gotten Ralph drunk, lured him to the dock, clobbered him over the head, and dunked him in the drink?
“Plenty of people talked to Ralph after the meeting,” I said. “I’m sure any of them will tell you he was not drunk.”
“Ralph Waites was an alcoholic,” Sadler said. “He had been for over twenty years. He’d probably built up a tolerance for liquor to the point that the average person wouldn’t recognize when he’d had enough. But as a bar owner and bartender, you should have.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was bound and determined to make me guilty for Ralph’s death. I knew Lloyd Sadler was a born-again Christian who thought liquor was the devil’s brew and anyone who sold it was a servant of Satan himself, but telling me I should recognize too much alcohol in a man who could hide it as well as he claimed Ralph could was a stretch.
“I only saw Ralph have one glass of wine,” I said at the same time July said, “Just exactly how much alcohol was found in Mr. Waites’s body?”
Now that was the right question, and I should have thought of it myself.
“Enough,” Sadler said, “to indicate he’d been inebriated the night before. The human body metabolizes alcohol at the rate of approximately one standard drink per hour. The fact Ralph Waites’s blood still showed there was alcohol in his system the morning he was found proves he was intoxicated the evening before.”
“But he only had one glass of wine,” I repeated. “He didn’t stay long after the meeting ended.”
“You mean he didn’t stay long after the two of you had your disagreement?”
“We’re done here.” July pushed his chair back and stood. “Unless you’re arresting my client, we’re leaving.”
“No, wait a minute, July,” I said. He gave me a look that clearly said, “shut up,” but I chose to ignore it. I turned back to Sadler. “Yes, we had a disagreement. I wanted lights installed in the park, and he didn’t. You know very well what our ‘disagreement’ was about because you were there and didn’t open your mouth about the lights even though there’s been reports of drug deals going on in the park. I would think as police chief, you’d want the park to be well lit.”
The chief opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“And since you were there, maybe you should have noticed that Ralph was intoxicated--if he was. Maybe you should have stopped him from getting a glass of wine, and maybe you should have taken him home or called Mose to come get him. Since you’re a police officer, I would expect you would recognize when a man had had too much, and I would think you wouldn’t want to take the chance that an inebriated man would get behind the wheel of his car.”
I looked at July.
“Seems to me like I’m not the only one who might have been shirking my duty last night. Doesn’t it seem that way to you, July?”
