TCJ

J0

Sheriff Walker found a sudden  need to be outside  and Sullivan followed him. On the way out they heard Dr. Wahkan said, "Agent Tolson,  my prayer  is that  you find  whatever you  are looking for  quickly, and  never  again return  to  Headwater. Not  even uncivilized men treat their dead in this manner."

The sheriff heard Special Agent  Mark Felt's stomach  growl and guessed the man might not have eaten since breakfast. He invited Felt to dine out. Felt heartily agreed, so long as the sheriff remembered not to talk about the case in  the restaurant. Roddy decided on Bea's  Chicken  Inn  only five  blocks  east of  the hospital. Headwater wasn't a  very large  town. Roddy took him over in the half-ton truck and along the way Felt invited him to spill what he had uncovered up to that point.

Roddy said, "We have what is very likely the murder weapon, and it has fingerprints. We have  many photographs of the scene with tire and boot marks in snow. That house coming up is the home of the deceased.  I made  contact with her  twin sister  there, one Robyn Zinter,  who recently moved to Headwater.  She already knew Kim was  dead and described circumstances of  that death. I didn't bring  her in  because I  knew this was  going to  be the Bureau's  case from  the gitgo,  and  also because  some of  the things she said were pretty crazy."

Bea's Chicken Inn was kitty-corner to Robyn's house. When Roddy pulled into the parking lot he gave Felt one more item from the case. "The murder weapon came  from a  set of knives,  and this morning we recovered the set, based on a lead. The source of the lead was the aforementioned Miss  Robyn Zinter. But the lead was too good to risk passing up."

"Do you think she's indulging in misdirection, sheriff?"

"I can't figure her out at  all. She expresses zero  sorrow for her sister.  None.  She  intelligent and  sweet but half  the things that come out of her mouth make no sense at all."

When they went inside and  were seated Roddy remarked  that the place was much less busy that it used to be on weeknights. "Coal was the mainstay of the town and that's drying up."

Felt said, "I heard wartime meat rationing will start in a month or two."

Roddy nodded. "Places like this won't close up, but they'll have to collect ration cards from customers and put them all together to get resupplied. I suppose it'll be even  less crowded then." J1

"I have a law  degree,' Felt  said, 'and  I was  leaning toward the  intersection  of  business  and  government,  but  the  war intervened.  In  wartime  our country  becomes,  temporarily,  a military dictatorship  with all hands  on deck. So as  with your coal miners here my own work dried up too."

"Your education was not criminal law?"

"Well, make no  mistake,  I  was immersed  in  criminal law  at Quantico. But the crimes that  draw my attention don't happen in towns like Headwater. I want to go after spies."

The waitress came to take their  order. She took the menus but left the two silver half-dollar coins that had been on the table when the men were seated.

"The people who ate at this  table before us were  from the Red Wing of the Church," Roddy said confidently.

"How do you know?"

He gestured at the  two coins. "Those half-dollars. 1942. The mint mark  should be  D for  Denver, but they'll  both be  O be- cause the die was worn and nobody caught it in time.

Mark Felt looked at both coins and saw Roddy's  guess was true. "How strange. But what's the connection to the Red Wing?"

"There's a fellow I know here who runs a  pawn shop, he brought these to  my attention.  Normally a  mint mark  of O  would make these collectible.  This fellow  found out  the Denver  Mint had struck about a hundred of  these flawed fifty-cent pieces before their quality  control spotted the  problem and halted  the run. But there are many more than  a hundred of them circulating here in Headwater.  Everywhere you go  in Headwater you'll  see them, always  from the  Red Wing,  usually retirees  living on  social security,  this old  fellow gets  a tube  for his  radio at  the hardware store and leaves a  half-dollar, that old lady gets her hair done and leaves some more."

"Do you think somebody in Headwater is counterfeiting coins?"

"If they are, Agent  Felt, I  really don't  see how  they would profit by it. If you melt  a silver half-dollar down all you get is a half-dollar's worth of raw silver bullion.

"But Pawn Shop Guy says  the little O  under 'In God  We Trust' makes it collectible." J2

"Sure, if there was only a hundred of them.  There's probably a hundred thousand  of them now  and they're breeding. I  chalk it down to one of the many unexplained things about this town."

"Just before we met I  was reading how  Chief Wanica and  a boy named Tashunka somehow fought off a half-dozen armed men."

Roddy was tempted to tell Felt this Tashunka found the deceased, but that would break Felt's rule: it was germaine to the case.

The waitress arrived with their food. The sheriff withheld his reply until after they were served. Then he said, "My guess is Special Agent  in Charge Tolson  is running that old  mystery to ground.  But I  don't want  to break  your rule  and talk  about active cases while we're eating."

They stopped conversing and ate  while Mark Felt  expressed his appreciation for the  food  with grunts  and eyebrow  gestures. Roddy asked, "How many spies have you caught, Agent Felt?"

"None so far," Mark admitted. "I've only been with the Bureau for one year.  Half of '42 was  spent at the Academy  and in DC, and for the rest of the year I was in Texas in hot field offices doing little more than interviewing references people had listed when they applied for government  jobs. Hardly the exciting life of a g-man that I envisioned."

"How's the pay?"

"About sixty a week."

"Not shabby at all, Special Agent Felt."

"What is shabby is having to pick up and move every few months. My wife Audrey and I were in the middle of another move to DC so I could catch spies like I wanted, but I got diverted here."

"How long have you been married?"

"Four years, twice as many relocations, and somehow my beautiful girl still puts up with me."

At the station  after supper  Felt had  his first  look at  the evidence in the case, the photographs and  the fingerprints and the knife found  near  the scene. And there was  the set  the knife came from, retrieved from  Bergin's trash. Felt began to interrogate the sheriff and the  deputies as though he were some pricy city lawyer Paul Bergin might retain. J3

Felt asked the  sheriff, "What  made you  think to  dig in  Mr. Bergin's trash?"

"Bergin and Hansen," Walker corrected him. "They're wrapped up in some nasty politics presently going on in the Church of Green Dome, which is sort of a big deal here in Headwater. I was given that tip by Tashunka, the same fellow you mentioned over dinner. The boy who was  with Chief  Wanica., He was  also the  one who found the body. We didn't find any evidence in Hansen's trash."

Felt turned to Deputy  Bob. "Are you sure  this came  from Mr. Bergin's house, Deputy?"

"I counted four stops after I  got in the garbage  truck. There are three  houses between the  Bergin place and where  I crawled inside."

"But did you actually see that you were in front of his house?"

"No, Agent Felt. I was inside the truck. I  didn't have a clear view to the side."

Deputy Bill shook his head when Felt glanced at him. He had also been well out of sight. "But the driver of the garbage truck and the pick-up man both said they saw Paul Bergin throw this bag in his trash can just before they picked it up," he said.

When Agent  Felt absorbed  all  this  he looked  simultaneously pleased and troubled. "Sheriff Walker, I'm pleasantly surprised by what you've managed to get so far, but I wonder if you do see the glaring hole in our case?"

Walker nodded. "I do, Special Agent Felt."

"I can give you their names if you wish, Agent Felt," said Bill. "The trash men were deputized for this operation  just like the Sheriff told us to do. That gives them legal standing. "

"It also gives them elevated responsibility, Bill," said Roddy, "and I hope you explained that to them when you swore them in."

Felt said, "Then I think we're  ready to see a  judge. We might have just enough now to fingerprint both Mr. and Mrs. Bergin."

Sheriff Walker  approached  a  large  cork  board  to  look  at photographs pinned thereupon. "And if his boots and tires match what we  posted here, Special  Agent Felt,  then we will  have a little bit more than just enough.'                               J4

Felt  nodded   with   obvious  pleasure. But  the   homicide investigation experienced the first  headwinds from  Judge Karl Porter when he was visted by Felt and the  sheriff at his house and declined to  allow  them to  to bring  the  Bergins to  the station for fingerprints. He also declined  to let  them bring Robyn in for more for questioning. The judge mused, aloud, "Your case is starting to become a fishing expedition."

If Felt  was  disappointed  it didn't  show. "Let's go  visit the  Bergin  place anyway,"  he  told  the Sheriff  outside  the courthouse. "I want to see if I can shake something loose."

"Do you want Bob and Bill to tag along?"

"No, I need them to make a phone call. Tell your men to get the number of  Bergin's plates, then have  them go up to  the temple and take photographs of his tire treads."

"Oh, we already have Bergin's plate number on file," Roddy said. "He doesn't think the wartime speed limit  of thirty-five miles per hour applies to church deacons."

Agent Felt smiled in admiration. "Sheriff, this is one of the smallest  towns  I've  ever  seen,  but the  way  you  run  your department is a G-man's dream."

When they arrived at Bergin's home Mark Felt took copious notes beginning with the fact that  no vehicle was present. And Felt thought the most striking thing about the woman who answered the door was how unattractive she was. If she hadn't worn a dress Mark might have thought Deacon Paul himself was standing there. He cleared his throat and identified himself and Sheriff Walker.

"How may I help you?"

"Is Mr. Paul Bergin at home?"

She shook her head. "He works at the temple. I'm his wife Ruth."

Perhaps you can help after all,  Mrs. Bergin. It seems a young woman was attacked with a knife recently."

"Good God! Is she well?"

"It's hard to say at this point," said Felt. 'But we found the knife that was  used  in the  attack. It has  a unique  wooden handle. It's hand-crafted, you see. Only a very few sets were sold, Ruth, and we think you might have one of them."                              J5

Ruth gasped. "You can't think that I or that Paul did this."

"Not at all ma'am! A criminal investigation is much like tracing out every rabbit trail even when they just come  to a dead end. If you show us your own kitchen knife set then the sheriff and I will back out of this here rabbit trail and be on our way."

"We never bought our knife block,"  Ruth said. 'It was made by old Owen Bergin when Headwater  was first settled and has passed down from father to son ever since."

Felt made a note of that on his pad, then broke into a smile. He said, "You see, Sheriff? I knew we must be wasting our time."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," said Sheriff Walker, "but we had to be sure. Still, do you mind if we take one little peek at the one you do have?"

Without showing it  on his  face, Mark  Felt admired  how Roddy caught his little  game and  slid right  into his  role without clashing gears. And Ruth went inside to fetch it.

The fact that Ruth didn't know she was missing her knife set was recorded in  Felt's  notebook. As he expected,  she  returned empty-handed and Felt recorded  that too, not  so much  that he didn't already know it, but for  the affidavit he would have the sheriff type up for Judge Porter.

"I don't understand," Ruth said. "I used a knife from that set just  this  morning when  I  made  breakfast  for Paul  and  the children, but now everything is gone."

"Oh no, Mrs. Bergin," Roddy  said, "that's just what  we didn't want to hear. But I'm sure there must be a good explanation."

"Ruth, do you mind if the sheriff and I come in so all the heat in your house doesn't escape through the front door?"

She thought about that for longer than Felt liked but in the end Ruth nodded and opened her screen door to let them in. She asked them to sit  on a  couch. Roddy thought Ruth's  home was  very similar to Kim Zinter's place in size and  design but different in almost every other way. There were no decorations at all, no paintings,  no rugs,  not even  a single  knick-knack. Only two books were in sight, a Bible and the Green Book.

There was another  difference: when  he visited  Robyn she  was playing music, but here it was silent. J6

There was no radio,  no record collection,  and no  Victrola to play them on. Roddy marvelled how religious folk were so keen on a hereafter when life here on Earth was so miserable, by choice.

"I see you don't have a radio, Mrs. Bergin."

"There's only one station in town, Sheriff, and more often than not they  play race  records. Paul says  that's the  devil's own music.  Why, even  the children  in the  Temple high  school are playing that garbage these days, if you can imagine."

"The girl who  was attacked  sang in  the Temple  school band," revealed the sheriff. "It'd be a terrible  thing to  find out somebody stabbed her simply because she sang race music."

Ruth's face was impassive but her eyes darted at those words.

"It was very generous of you to allow us  to come indoors, Mrs. Bergin," Felt  said. "I have no right to  ask this of  you, and don't  believe for  an instant  that we  think you  attacked the girl, but if  I could just get  one print of your  thumb I could compare  it  to  what  we  found on  the  knife  and  completely eliminate you as a suspect in this case."

The sheriff had to restrain himself from whistling in admiration at Agent Felt's performance right there. It was so beautifully done. Ruth would be thinking of self-preservation in the face of her own husband framing her for the crime.

"Will you have to take me down to the station for a thumbprint?"

"Not at all," said Felt, and he used his pencil to make a thick dark spot on a  page in  his notebook. "Are you right  or left handed?"

"Right, of course," Ruth said. "Southpaws are cursed by God."

And so with Ruth Bergin fully and freely willing, Special Agent Mark Felt rubbed her right thumb in the spot  of graphite, then flipped to a fresh page  in his  notebook and rolled  her thumb across it to get a perfect print. Then he carefully closed the book to preserve the print until it could be photographed.

"This schoolgirl, she was Erik Zinter's kid, wasn't she?"

Felt stood  up  from  the  couch  still  holding  his  notebook carefully open. He said, "I've been careful not to say too much and upset you, Mrs. Bergin." J7

"I suppose it couldn't be helped," she sniffed.

Sheriff Walker scrambled to his feet at that remark and politely asked Ruth what she meant by making it.

She said, "I think only  a believer would fully  understand me, but Erik  was putting  our most holy  relic to  common purposes. Digging coal! Our God is a sovereign God."

Roddy made eye contact with Agent Felt, who raised his notebook a bit and shrugged. He already had what he came for. Roddy said, "So God wasn't content to take Erik's life for  what he did? He had to take the life of his daughter as well?"

Ruth was shocked. "She's dead?"

"Yes, Ruth, she's dead. What a terrible thing for Clara Zinter, don't you  think, losing her  entire family for Erik's  sin? But whoever did  it must have a  death wish, or maybe  he thinks God will protect  him. He left  the body draped across  three states and elevated it to a federal  case. It was already the Chair for the killer if I caught him." Walker repeated that last part. "If I caught him."

"But the Bureau always, always gets its man," Felt finished.

Judge Karl  Porter  was  directly  descended  from  Alfred  and Caroline Porter, who were part of the first wagon  train to set down roots in Headwater. In any other town of the  West, where family trees actually  fork, this  would be  as prestigious  as tracing one's family back to the Mayflower.

From his corner office  on the second  floor of  the courthouse Judge Porter could look down upon his ancestral  family home on the north bank  of the river. Most of the land of the homestead had long been  sold off  for the  homes and  apartments of  the northwest quadrant of town.

The courthouse was five blocks away from the sheriff's office on the same island in the Squaw River that formed the heart of the town. The sheriff was  making another run  at Paul  Bergin, and this time, Porter suspected, he just might get him.

The judge glanced  once more  at  the Affidavit  in Support  of Arrest Warrant submitted by Sheriff  Walker. On a personal level he didn't like where  this investigation  was going. Until the schism Paul had been the deacon of the Church  and the Bergins, just like the Porters, were part of the town's Old Guard. J8

The Church of  Green Dome  had  secrets, the  judge well  knew. Something happened last  summer to  bring three  agents of  the Bureau sniffing around. After a few  weeks they  had abandoned their trailer outside of town but the death of this girl brought them back.

With that in  mind Porter  addressed  Felt and  asked, "Do  you foresee  a time  when the  Bureau will  no longer  be acting  in cooperation with local law enforcement here in Headwater?"

"Certainly, yes  Your  Honor.  After they  are  identified  and apprehended the  individual or  individuals responsible  for the crime will be transported for arraignment in Kansas City."

Judge Porter said, "Then with the view of hastening that blessed day, Special Agent Felt, please lay out your evidence."

Mark Felt nodded at the sheriff. Roddy displayed a knife in a cellophane bag,  a page  from Felt's  notebook, and  two closeup photographs of these. The sheriff said, "Your Honor, Mrs. Ruth Bergin, the  wife of Mr. Paul  Bergin, was kind enough  to allow Special Agent Felt to take an  impression of her right thumb and as you  can see, it matches  the single thumbprint we  dusted on the knife found at the crime scene."

"What in the name of  God would make  Mrs. Bergin give  you her thumbprint, Sheriff? And why isn't she named as a suspect?"

"I think, Your Honor, the answer to both questions is the same. She  was shocked  to find  her set  of kitchen  knives had  gone missing on the morning when the trash was to be picked up."

Porter growled while he chewed on that item for  a moment. Yes, the sheriff, or Agent Felt, or both, would have led Mrs. Bergin to think her  own husband  was framing  her for  murder. Still, there was no legal way to reject this new  evidence. "What else do you have?"

The sheriff reached  into his  briefcase and  removed two  more photographs. 'Your Honor, Paul Bergin's  vehicle is  presently parked at the Temple and is under surveillance  by my deputies. You can see here that his tire tread matches the tracks we found at the scene of the homicide."

"The judge  looked  at  the  photographs  and  without  further prompting he remembered that under wartime rationing Paul Bergin could only  own four tires  plus one spare. Porter  realized the sheriff now had enough evidence to justify an arrest warrant.                               J9

"The court finds probable cause to believe a felony offense, to wit,  the  unlawful  killing  of  Kimberly  Zinter  with  malice aforethought, has been committed. The  arrest of Mr. Paul Bergin at any hour of day or night is so ordered."

Karl Porter's law clerk began typing it up.

"Special Agent Felt,  will  it be  sufficient  to confine  your search  for more  evidence  of the  crime to  the  home of  Paul Bergin?"

Felt replied, 'No, Your Honor. If Mr. Bergin was a  layman his house would have been  enough. But as a  member of  the Church leadership he has physical access to the whole Temple.'

"Very well, these are the rules of the People  for your search: Let's assume Bergin  is hiding evidence in the  Temple. When you make  the arrest  you will  obtain his  keys. Any  door that  is locked, but his keys can open, you may enter and search."

"Thank you, Your Honor,"  said Felt. "The Bureau accepts this limitation on the search."

"Proceed with caution,  Agent  Felt," Judge  Porter said. "The Church of Green Dome is the very lifeblood of Headwater, and the Church was already going through its most  difficult passage in nearly eighty years before this happened."

"The words  of  Dr.  Wahkan and  Sheriff  Walker  have  already sensitized me  to the  plight of the  Church, Your  Honor," said Felt, "and  I  will  indeed  take  great  care.  But  if  those troubles somehow led to the  killing of Kimberly Zinter, and the perpetrator turns  out to  be a  member of  the local  clergy, I don't know how even more trauma can be avoided."

Special Agent  in  Charge  Clyde  Tolson  was  waiting  in  the second-floor courtroom with  Special  Agent  Sullivan when  the sheriff and Felt emerged from  the judge's chambers. "It's not carte blanche," said Felt when he handed  Tolson the documents, "but it's the best we could do."

When Tolson finished reading he didn't seem to be  too upset by the limitations  imposed by Judge  Porter. He said, "Edgar knew what he was doing when he put you on the case. For six months we couldn't get one foot in the Temple door."

Mark Felt hoped he only heard that wrong. It sounded like Tolson didn't give two floating turds for the dead girl.