The question of which jurisdiction was going to get first dibs on Gibbs would keep a whole lot of county attorneys across the country busy for a while. Other than hoping that Boulder didn’t win that particular lottery, I wasn’t invested in the outcome.
I spent a couple of hours answering questions for the South Bend police, who seemed to have suffered amnesia about their decision not to keep an eye on Holly Malone, and then I prepared to leave Indiana.
First I kept my promise and called Lucy, letting her know what had transpired in South Bend. She was astonished at the developments. She had some news for me, too, though: The feds had finally tracked down Brian Miles. They’d found him in a big suite at a fancy hotel in the Bahamas where he was on vacation.
Not surprisingly, Carmen had learned more about what had really happened than I had.
When I found her after my interview, she told me that it had indeed been Gibbs, in disguise, who had delivered the Walkman and the duct tape to Holly in the covered dish on the front porch of the Craftsman bungalow. Gibbs’s pitch? She had promised Holly a visit by Sterling, who was offering a carnal encounter in the basement while the turkey was resting on the kitchen counter upstairs. Gibbs instructed Holly to wear the Walkman and follow all the instructions she heard to the letter, which included directions on binding and gagging herself with the tape.
Wow.
I told Carmen I was leaving town and offered her a ride as far as O’Hare in Chicago. She declined. She was determined to stay in South Bend in case there were any loose ends to tie up. What else? She didn’t say so, but I think she still wanted to find that South Bend detective who had called her “ma’am” and then blown her off about Holly’s peril. She wanted to help Orange County win the Gibbs Storey lottery. And she made me promise to tell her what really happened that day between Gibbs and Sterling in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart at Notre Dame.
Carmen and I ended up saying good-bye on the sidewalk outside the South Bend PD in one of those poignant moments that I haven’t had many of in my life since I left college. I admit it crossed my mind that had I lingered a little longer in South Bend, Carmen and I might have had only one room that night at the Days Inn, not two.
That was the main reason for staying.
It was also one of the two main reasons for leaving.
The other?
Simon.
I filled the tank in the Cherokee and pointed it toward Minnesota.
I napped away most of the next morning in Angus’s den, and then Simon and I spent a wonderful Friday afternoon arguing whether having turkey and cranberry sandwiches while watching college football the day after Thanksgiving was almost as good as having turkey and stuffing while watching the Lions lose on Thanksgiving.
I lost the argument. I didn’t care.
Sherry and I talked after Simon was in bed for the night. We said what we had to say to each other in about five minutes. I gave Angus a big hug, declined his offer of a bed, and headed south on Interstate 35. I ended up spending the night in a Super 8 in Mason City, Iowa.
Things were feeling a whole lot clearer.