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The papers and TV picked up the story and ran it either the evening of the morning press conference or the next day. It got good coverage in Oregon. She had cooled off considerably by then and vacillated between irritation and amusement, as she read and heard about the “long-standing” cooperation between the Oregon Fish and Game Department and the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department to stop the illegal taking of abalone. A picture of Wallace shaking hands with the Fish and Game administrator appeared on multiple outlets. Sheffel stood in the background, and his name was mentioned in a few print stories. She couldn’t help herself and Google-searched for her name. She found it in a couple of the longer print articles, always in connection with Sheffel’s name and his assertion that Tillamook County sheriff’s deputy Greta Havorsford was instrumental in breaking the case—blah, blah, blah.
I guess Dave tried like he said he would, she thought. I wonder if Wallace is pissed that anyone’s name except his got mentioned at all?
By the time she got a chance to stop in at the Tillamook office, four days had passed. She was there tidying up paperwork and saw Wallace in his office. She dropped in. He gazed up at her as if nothing had happened.
“Yeah. What is it?”
“Saw you in the papers about the press conference and the abalone case.”
Does he actually look a little abashed? she wondered. Nah. Couldn’t be.
“It’s good for the department to show interagency cooperation. I did tell you that you did a good job, didn’t I?”
“Must have slipped your mind,” she said, a little more sarcastically than intended.
His eyes narrowed. “Good work, though you should have given me more updates.”
“Of course, I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Yeah, she thought. A
s soon as the moon disappears or Elvis comes back to life, whichever comes first.
CHAPTER 10
The main outcome of the Great Abalone Caper was to put Greta back at square one on the Toompas case. The wetsuit and the abalone tool in Toompas’s car were not likely connected to his murder. She sat at home the next evening, evaluating what other Toompas avenues she might explore.
She pulled out the complete final list of items found in the car and the few suspicious ones in his trailer, along with their photos. She had been through the list and photos so many times, she didn’t need to actually hold them anymore. She could visualize every detail just by closing her eyes.
In the photos, a dozen or more receipts lay scattered around the car, most wadded and tossed on the floor. Wait a minute, she thought. She checked her notes and the reports. Whoever searched the car had been meticulous. The photos detailed the exact location of every item. Although most of the receipts were smudged or faded from age, one photo showed an unwadded, unfaded receipt on the passenger seat. It was almost certainly a recent receipt.
She examined the photo of the receipt. She could barely make out the print but enough to see the total, $15.31. What business it originated from was unknown. At many of the larger businesses or chains, a computerized checkout system printed out information on each item, such as “$4.59 Hair Shampoo.” Unfortunately, this receipt had only the cost. Also missing was the top of the receipt where a business address and a date might be.
Other receipts came from establishments scattered around Tillamook and Lincoln counties: gas stations, grocery stores, bars, fast food restaurants, cafes, a doughnut shop. No other receipt totaled $15.31. She figured the chances were extremely low that this receipt would help the investigation.
What the hell? she thought. Where else do I go? At least, it’ll give me something to do while waiting for my next brilliant idea.
She started by assuming Toompas’s last receipt was from when he was out driving around that fatal night. A gasoline receipt on the floor was dated the day before he died. Maybe the unknown receipt could tell them one place Toompas had visited that last day.
$15.31? What kind of business? Almost anything. Looking at the other receipts, the most common were fast food and cafés.
Hmmm . . . , she thought, $15.31 would be about right for a meal. Probably a dinner, given the pattern of other receipts. Possibly lunch, though a pricey lunch for Toompas.
She turned to her computer and searched for restaurants in Lincoln City. To her dismay, eighty-five listings came up. The search had pulled up any establishment that sold food for direct consumption, including gas stations selling hotdogs and pretzels. She scanned down the page. She figured she could start by eliminating part of the list. Upscale coffee shops were out—she couldn’t see Toompas with a latté and a croissant. Upscale restaurants—out; the receipt’s bill was too low. Restaurants at motels were probably out; not his style. That got it down to thirty-six. She then added in grocery shops—large stores to small mom and pops. The number jumped back to fifty-nine just in Lincoln City.
Hell.
She consulted a map again.
“I have to narrow it down to the most likely places,” she murmured. “Let’s say . . . from ten miles south of Lincoln City to Pleasant Valley north of Pacific City.” The food receipts she could recognize were mainly in Lincoln City and fewer in Pacific City.
She spent the rest of the evening working her way through the limits she’d set, printing out lists with phone numbers and addresses.
The next thing she needed to do was use the phone to screen establishments. If a business itemized receipts or had any obvious receipt features different from her mystery receipt, she could eliminate those. Then she would ask the remaining candidates whether they kept digital records of purchases. If they did, she’d ask them to search for a $15.31 purchase on October 8 to 10. If they didn’t keep digital records, did they keep paper copies? And if so, for how long? It had been almost two months now, so they might have thrown out any that old, unless there was something about preparing business tax returns that required their retention.
The next day she worked systematically with the list by phone, starting in the south and working north. It went better than she’d feared. Most establishments were willing to help and quickly confirmed the uniqueness of their receipts and whether they kept digital records. If yes on the records, they checked and found no hits matching Toompas’s $15.31 on those dates. If they had no records at all, it was a dead end. Some establishments checked while she waited; others called back. Those less willing to help were cajoled until they acquiesced. Two tried to blow her off, telling her they were too busy. She sweet-talked them into complying by saying, “No problem. I’ll come in tomorrow and talk with you personally. I think I can get the County Health Inspector’s office to send someone with me.” Attitude adjustments followed.
It took four days of calling to run through the entire list of ninety-five businesses, all contacted on Friday through the following Tuesday. It would have taken less time, except she made the calls during free moments. She continued her regular duties, and she didn’t want Wallace to know she was still working the murder case.
