4:48 PM

21
4:48 PM

     The phone rang and Deputy Powell picked up. Margaret's breasts were starting to hurt and her husband called in to complain that the baby was crying incessantly. Margaret tried to troop forward, but then she realized there wasn't going to be any solution to it unless she went home and solved both her and her baby's problem all at once.
     She called Deputy Powell over and ordered him to take over the phones, which he did after a pause.
     "Sheriff's Department," Deputy Powell tried.
     "Yes," a quiet voice came over the phone. "I got a call from you, I think."
     "Is this Nicole?"
     "Yes."
     "Hi, so," and the Deputy pulled out a piece of paper to write down on, "I can't say I'm calling under the best of circumstances. Dr. Sam Jones was, unfortunately murdered last week."
     "I heard."
     "Well, the Sheriff was talking to Trudy, your former boss I believe."
     "Yes."
     "And she said that round about the time you were working in the office. You were working in that office for a time, weren't you?"
    "Yes."
    "Well, she said that there a man who was parked outside for a couple weeks during that time, and I was wondering if you might be able to give a description of the man you saw, if you remember him."
    "His name is Caleb Sampson."
    "Caleb Sampson. That's very specific. How do you know him by name?"
    "He introduced himself. I think he kind of liked me."
    "Wow. Fantastic. I mean, I don't know how fantastic it is, but that's great information. Thank you. We'll follow up. Can you search your memory, too, think of anybody else that you think might have had it in for the doctor?"
    "His friend."
    "His friend."
    "Bill Peterman."
    "Wow. You have in incredible memory, Nicole."
    "I wrote down their names, officer--"
    "Deputy."
    "Deputy. I thought this would happen a lot quicker than it did, and I meant to go straight to the Department with it, but I guess I got shy."
    "Well that's a shame. Might have stopped this whole thing before it happened."
    "I know that, deputy, and I'm very, very sorry."
    "You didn't do anything. It can be hard sometimes to accuse people of things they haven't yet done, anyway."
    The deputy looked at what he'd wrote.
    "Now, Nicole, this is the real hard part. At what point you can you come in for an interview with the department, because it appears you are a material witness in a murder investigation, and we really, really, could use you to sit down and get something written and signed."
    "I'm still in school, deputy."
    "No rush. Sometime in the next week or so?"
    "Yes, entirely. I'll come home this weekend."
    "That's wonderful. You're a superstar. I really, really appreciate all this. Gonna make me look great."
    "Okay. I'm really glad I could help."
    The deputy hung up the phone and then got on the radio.
    He ran to the Sheriff's office, and threw the piece of paper in his face.
    "We got them."
    The Sheriff looked at him. "Who we got?"
    "The two boys. Their names are Caleb Sampson and Bill Peterman."
    "What? Who says?"
    "The girl that worked in Sam's office. Says one tried to hit on her introduced himself and must have introduced his friend."
    "Boys will be boys. Well this is great, deputy."
    "The girl says she's going to go come in this weekend and give a statement."
    "That's great."
    "Well, I'll be at the phones."
    The Sheriff looked at the piece of paper. They had their boys. But the question now was, who else was involved?