AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Shep and Miranda are not speaking to each other in the wake of their break-up, but when Shep is arrested for the murder of David Zhang, guess who is his first phone call. Enjoy this New Year's Day 2020 installment of The Mammoth Murders.

Wednesday morning

Miranda was at her desk, preparing to enter a new shipment of books into the digital catalog when the phone rang. She looked up from her chair to see that Annabelle was entertaining a gentlemen patron at the end of the circulation desk nearest the telephone. No phone ever distracted Annabelle when a male was within arm's length.

Miranda punched the flashing button on her desk phone and answered. "Live Oak Public Library, Miss Ogilvy speaking. How may I help you?"

"Bean, it's me. Listen—"

"I can't talk now. First of all, I'm officially Not Speaking To You; and, secondly, I have about a hundred new books to catalog before the end of the day—"

"Miranda, I've been arrested. You're my one phone call. If you hang up on me now, I'll spend the rest of my life in undeserved misery, like Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. Or worse, like the old guy in the cell next door to the Count of Monte Cristo."

"Is this a joke? Because, if it is—"

"No joke. I'm in the slammer, and I need your help. Look, I realize you have no reason to—"

"I'll be right there. Don't talk to anyone 'til I get there. See you soon."

"Bean!"

"What?"

"Don't you want to know where I am?"

"Oh. Okay, let me get a pen."

Miranda had to stop in Minokee to change clothes and collect some essentials before racing on to the town of Luz, Florida, population 934.

Luz was a town with one off-brand gas station, which was actually the front of a general store that included the town's laundromat and pizzeria. The decidedly non-bustling town of Luz boasted a remote branch office of the Alachua County Sheriff. The sheriff's office in Luz consisted of a one-room office, with one jail cell against the back wall.

Miranda walked into the office to find a lanky, twenty-something, cocoa-skinned young man in a deputy's uniform, seated at a desk.

The Stetson he wore seemed to spread a yard wide, like a tourist-trap sombrero, emphasizing his thin face and frame.

When Miranda suddenly appeared in his doorway, the young man spilled a dollop of coffee on his scuffed oak desk. He set down his mug, hauled his booted feet off the desktop, and stood up.

Tyrell Krothers's mother had raised him well, and good manners were the very least she would have expected of her son. Mrs. Krothers would have been proud of Tyrell today.

He knew a real lady when he saw one, and his visitor could not be mistaken for anything else. He offered his hand, and she shook it with confidence and cordiality.

"Miranda Ogilvy," she said, "to meet with the accused."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Deputy Tyrell Krothers. Been expecting you."

"Is that him?" she said in her best lawyer voice. She didn't know how a real lawyer would sound addressing a novice deputy in a one-room sheriff's office. She tried to imitate Perry Mason, the late-1950s television attorney, whom she knew from grainy black-and-white reruns.

If her TV-lawyer voice failed her, she would fall back on the classic Official Librarian Demeanor. It could intimidate almost anyone, and certainly should impress an inexperienced small-town lawman.

Deputy Krothers turned to confirm that her extended finger was pointing at his only prisoner, who was napping on a cot in the cell, on his back with arms crossed on his chest. The blond man's shoulders were wider than the cot, and his feet hung over the end.

"Yes, ma'am. That is Shepard Krausse, in the flesh. I could hardly believe it when he walked in the door, told me his name, and turned hisself in. I was a big fan of Sheep Counters with Shep and Dave. Terrible what happened to Dave."

Miranda said, "Yes, terrible. Thank goodness the perpetrators were brought to justice. May I go in and speak with him privately, now, please?"

"Oh, sure, sure." A wooden drawer squeaked, and metal clattered as Deputy Krothers retrieved a heavy keyring from the old desk. The iron ring held an amazing number of keys for a small office with only one cell.

Krothers took a step toward the cell as if to lead the way, then he stopped and turned back to Miranda. "I'll need to look in your briefcase, ma'am, if you want to take it in with you."

"Of course." Miranda plopped her imposing faux leather black case on the deputy's desk. The behemoth briefcase was the size of a picnic cooler that would hold lunch for twelve people.

She opened the combination lock and spread the top of the case wide.

The deputy looked inside but withdrew the hand he had nearly inserted. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes. Is there a problem, Deputy Krothers?"

"Well, I don't actually recall a specific statute that mentions it, but it don't seem right somehow."

Miranda lowered her lawyer voice to a soft, confiding tone. "Deputy Krothers, you are aware that the accused has a disability ..."

Krothers nodded.

"... and that his long-time service dog has died."

Krothers nodded again and murmured, "Terrible."

"This is the solution to that problem," she concluded.

Krothers took a closer look at the contents of the briefcase. "Are you kidding me?"

Miranda shook her head solemnly.

"Seems kinda small ..."

"Nevertheless ..." She waited through a moment of silence as Krothers studied the case's cargo. "If you like, I can provide you a copy of the pertinent subsection and paragraph of the Americans with Disabilities Act for your records," she added, managing to sound friendly and vaguely threatening at the same time.

Deputy Krothers looked the lawyerly lady right in the eye and lied his heart out. "Oh, no, ma'am, that won't be necessary. I'm familiar with the statute, of course. Y'all come right on in."

He turned and walked seven feet to the cell door, which he opened with a flourish.

"Thank you, Deputy Krothers." Miranda closed the briefcase, left it unlocked, and carried it with her through the cell door. Once inside, she set the case on the concrete floor, turned it on its side, and opened the latch.

"Okay. Go on," she said.

A bullet of fur exploded out of the briefcase and onto the sleeping prisoner's chest. Then the alleged service animal wrapped itself around the alleged felon's neck and began purring like a beehive gone amok.

The man awoke, clasped the kitten gently with both hands and said, "What the—?"

"Mrrrratt!" the kitten said, and, "K-k-k-k-k-k."

"Zeus!" The man held the kitten closely, sat up, and swung his feet to the floor. "What are you doing here, little buddy?"

Zeus began washing Shep's face with a pink, sand-paper tongue. Possibly, the ever-pragmatic Zeus merely liked the salty taste of the man's silent tears. Nonetheless, it comforted the prisoner.

"How did you get here?" Shep asked the cat, nuzzling its head and neck as it nuzzled him in turn. "Surely you didn't come alone. Is Bean with you?"

Miranda said, "His Majesty, the King of Olympus, permitted this lowly human to drive him here. He said he had an important meeting."

Tyrell Krothers stood motionless in the open cell door, watching the most surreal attorney-client conference he had ever witnessed. He came to himself and backed out of the cell doorway, closing it with an echoing steel-on-steel clang and turning the key in the lock.

"Y'all take all the time you need. I'll be right outside in the porch chair. Yell if you need anything or when you get finished talking."

"Do you want us to come get you if the phone rings, or can you hear it from out there?" asked Miranda.

"It hardly ever rings," Krothers said. He clattered the handful of keys into the squeaky desk drawer and walked out the front door.

Shep held the kitten in place against his throat with one hand and, with the other, patted the open space beside him on the cot. "Take a seat, Bean. Thanks for coming on short notice."

She sat, smoothed her skirt to cover her knees, and slid off her shoes with a sigh.

Shep heard clompety-clomp. "Did you just take off your shoes, Miss Proper Librarian? And in a public place, no less? Honestly, Bean, I'm shocked!"

Miranda exhaled in relief as she massaged one foot with the other. "I borrowed them from Annabelle. They're about ten inches high, and I never wear a heel higher than half an inch. I barely got to this building from my car without toppling like a felled pine."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I can't walk on my toes like a prima ballerina."

"No, I mean why are you wearing Annabelle's skyscraper heels that you can't even walk in? You could break your pretty neck, Bean!

"I wanted to look taller and more like a professional."

"A professional what?"

"An attorney, of course. How else was I supposed to get a private meeting with a prisoner?"

"Why didn't you bring a real lawyer? You could get in big trouble impersonating an officer of the court."

"To answer your questions in order, first: I didn't know what kind of lawyer to bring, or which ones to avoid, since I'm pretty sure you somehow got yourself jailed in the huge metropolis of Luz, instead of a bigger city, because you don't want your mother or her lawyers to know.

"Second, I did not impersonate an officer of the court, I just walked in and asked to see the accused. Deputy Krothers assumed the rest."

She went on, "I would like to point out, also, that you actually are an officer of the court, Mister Non-Practicing Lawyer Man, and it seems to me you are the one who is in big trouble. Not me. I shall be leaving this charming iron room shortly, and you, I believe, shall not."

"Right on all counts," Shep admitted.

"I know. Now, before I can do anything to get you out of here, I need to know what crime these silly people think you committed."

"You don't think I committed the crime?"

"Oh, please, Shepard Montgomery Krausse! Zeus is a more likely criminal than you."

"Aorrrow!"

"It was just a figure of speech. I apologize if I offended."

"I think I'm offended, too," said Shepard. "I could commit a crime if I wanted to. I'm capable. Is that just one more ability I need to prove to you?"

"There is nothing you need to prove to me. You said that in the heat of anger, and we both knew then — and know now — that you misjudged me. I know you are capable. I also know you are not a criminal. Now, quit wasting time. What are you supposed to have done?"

He lowered the kitten from his throat to his lap, where the cat reclined and purred beneath Shep's stroking fingers.

"You know that David Zhang has been missing for three weeks, right?"

"Yes," she said. "So, what? Why arrest you, of all people?"

Shepard explained, "Seems I'm the last person to talk to David Zhang — two days ago. Somebody turned in David's cellphone to the police with an anonymous tip that they should look at who David last talked to. The call history showed him calling my cellphone several times since he went missing — and they weren't short calls. Some of them lasted several minutes."

"So, David Zhang is alive!" said Miranda.

Shep said, "Maybe. The anonymous tipper told the police they found the cellphone in a trashcan in Jacksonville. There was blood on it."

"David's blood?"

"They're testing it. Guess we'll know soon."

Miranda asked, "Did you talk to David on the phone since the canoe trip?"

"Absolutely not."

"Great! No problem. Just show them your cellphone, and they'll see those calls never happened."

Shep's tone lowered as he delivered bad news: "They took my phone, Bean. They said they did find calls on it from David's number. But I swear, I never heard from him. I haven't talked to David Zhang since we left Pig River that day. And yet, the facts seem to say that somebody used my phone to talk to him."

"Who could have access to your phone?"

"Nobody! That's just it, Bean. Nobody could've gotten hold of my phone. Pietro and Dave died because I misplaced my phone that night. That phone has not been out of my pocket since. I even sleep with it. Nobody has talked on my cellphone but me."

"You didn't have your phone with you the day I caught you climbing Mrs. Cleary's light pole. I stood in your house and called your phone, and it rang in your bedroom."

"Okay, I admit I took it out of my pocket that day because I would be climbing and didn't want to drop it from forty feet in the air. But nobody went in my house that day but you, Bean. Are you framing me?"

"Of course not," she said.

Shep took a breath before continuing. "I have no idea who set me up, but I'm starting to think they wouldn't go to this much trouble framing me unless ..."

"Unless David is dead," she finished for him.

Shep gave an affirmative "Mm-hm." After a second's pause, he said, "I'll be very interested to know whose blood is on Zhang's cellphone."

Miranda folded her hands in her lap and stared at the concrete floor as if piecing a puzzle together in her head. After some moments, she asked, "How did you get here, to the town of Blink-And-You-Missed-It, Florida?"

"I had the police scanner on in my home office — old radio station news-gathering habit. Imagine my surprise when I heard a BOLO on myself!

"I grabbed my cane and was halfway to your house when I heard cars with sirens skid to a stop in front of my house. I knew you weren't home, so I bypassed your house and went straight to Martha's.

"She drove me to Luz — in your car, by the way, since you have her Caddy — and dropped me off at the sheriff's door. I turned myself in."

Miranda said, "And the sheriff did not notify the press."

Shep's cheeks dimpled with his smile. "Tyrell was kind enough to keep it out of the press and off my mother's radar, at least for the moment. Lucky for me, he was a fan."

"Yeah. Lucky." Miranda blew a stream of air. "Hoo! You really do need a lawyer!"

"Yes, ma'am. And, I don't think the height of their heels will be important, in the long run, even though I appreciate your sacrifice. Hope your toes aren't permanently damaged."

"Whom do I call?"

He gave her the name of a friend from law school. She said she would find them.

He did not have to ask her to keep his secret from Hermione Montgomery-Krausse or any of madam's acquaintances or employees — including Carlo Fratelli, who, fortunately, had not been home when the police arrived.

Then, placing the kitten in Miranda's lap, Shep knelt beside the cot where they had been sitting. He massaged Miranda's feet and her calf muscles until he felt some tension dissipate.

Then he lifted her shoes one at a time, examined them with his hands and sent Miranda a teasing smile that was almost a leer, but not enough of one to cause offense to a lady. He eased her shoes onto her feet and rose, offering her a hand to stand.

"Careful tip-toeing to the car," he said.

In answer she hugged him tightly about the waist, pressing her face against his sternum as if desperate to hear his heart beating. The kitten watched from the cot.

"Thanks for coming, Castor Bean," his low baritone voice hummed from deep within his chest.

"K-k-k-k-k-k-k!" came from the direction of the cot.

Shep chuckled. "And thanks for bringing Zeus, although I know he didn't give you a choice. He's a talented and experienced stowaway, I can swear to that."

Miranda had been silent since receiving his instructions about obtaining an attorney. She released him from her hug, picked up her briefcase, and placed it on the cot. Zeus obligingly crawled inside then poked his head up and looked at Shepard.

"Merrewyah," yowled Zeus.

"I will," Shep answered. "You take care of our Castor Bean while I'm away."

"Myek," Zeus chirped, then he ducked down inside the briefcase.

Miranda closed and lifted the briefcase, faced the door, and squared her shoulders. When she remained silent, Shep called for Deputy Krothers.

The deputy re-entered the office, unlocked the cell door, and nodded his farewell to the lady with the briefcase. No one said a word while Miranda left the building. Shep returned to the cot and lay down on his back, and Krothers returned to his desk after locking the iron door.

Miranda was chagrinned, but not surprised, that the attorney Shep had requested turned out to be an attractive female.

Ursula Norland, Esquire, had attended law school with Shepard Krausse and, in fact, had been one of Shep's regular readers.

He hired a team of readers every semester, and they rotated through his study room on a schedule, each taking up where the previous reader had left off, to read aloud all the texts necessary for a law student to cover.

The texts were many, and the cases to be researched were endless, and next to none were available on recording for visually impaired students.

Miranda knew that the twins, Pietro and Carlo, had also served as readers throughout Shepard's college and law school days.

No doubt, dozens of former readers existed, and certainly a significant number of them would be female and attractive.

In such ways did life often stink, in the view of plain, invisible, spinster librarians.

Nevertheless, Miranda called Attorney Norland and explained Shep's situation and need for discretion. Ms. Norland understood immediately, having long known Shepard's family and their standing in the community.

Norland went to work without delay.

That afternoon, the ebony-skinned, Caribbean-born lady lawyer met with the Luz, Florida, Sheriff's Department in the form of Deputy Tyrell Krothers, unmarried African-American officer of the law.

The lady provided faxes from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement Crime Lab, stating that the blood found on David Zhang's cellphone was not David's and not Shepard's. It was not even human blood, but was from a rodent.

Calls to Shep's number were listed on David's phone, but there were no fingerprints on the phone — not even David's — which might well indicate that someone else had made those calls, using David's stolen phone, in an attempt to place Shep under suspicion.

On the other hand, the calls may never have occurred at all. Attorney Norland produced a sworn affidavit from a respected telecommunications engineer, describing in detail how an expert hacker could have inserted false calls into Shep's call record — and David's.

Finally, since there was no evidence that David Zhang was a crime victim — with the possible exception of the theft of his phone — there was no murder with which to charge Shepard Montgomery Krausse.

There was no question of charging Shep with Tom Rigby's murder, because Shepard had a solid alibi for Rigby's estimated time of death.

Deputy Krothers personally agreed with Ms. Norland's rationale and the facts as she presented them — presented them in her lilting Jamaican accent. Krothers was a goner the first time she opened her mouth.

After a quick and cordial phone call to a judge who had jurisdiction in the case, all the parties concurred that, in fact, there was no case.

The judge sent his best regards to Shepard's dear mother.

The deputy released Shepard from custody and received an autograph from the head Sheep Counter.

Attorney Norland did not quite say no to Deputy Krothers's dinner invitation for some future evening.

During the long drive from Luz to Minokee, Ursula Norland and her old college buddy, Shepard Krausse, reminisced about their university years.

When Ursula dropped Shep off at his front door with a sisterly kiss on the cheek, she reminded him not to let his guard down. "Whoever faked those calls to your phone is still out there, and they may try again to do you harm. They may even get you arrested again, if new evidence of a crime comes to light. Watch your back."

"Will do," he said, unfolding his cane and turning toward his house.

Once inside, he went into his home office and telephoned Miranda. When she answered, he said, "Thanks, Bean. I'm home, safe and sound and no worse for wear, except for being tired and hungry. All charges were dropped, and they gave me back my phone. You really came through for me today, and I owe you big time."

"You don't owe me anything. I'm glad I could help. Did you and, um ..."

"Ursula?"

"... Ms. Norland enjoy renewing your acquaintance?"

"We caught up a bit in the car, but this wasn't exactly a happy social occasion, Bean."

"She's very pretty."

"Good for her. Does all this mean you're speaking to me again, now?"

Miranda did not answer immediately. After some moments of silence, she said, "I don't know."

"Okay. I understand. But, just know that I'm speaking to you again, in case someday you're ready to do the same. We don't have to get married. But we don't have to be strangers, either. Just give it some thought."

"I will," she said. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Castor Bean. Sleep well."

They disconnected the call without a clue that they would be speaking a great deal indeed within just a few hours.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Shep is no longer a suspect, but he may still be a target. What is going to happen soon that will force Shep and Miranda to work together again?  One man has been murdered so far and another may be dead as well. Whoever is targeting Shep now apparently has nothing to lose if he/she decides to kill again.  

Join us for the next installment of The Mammoth Murders, and meet Shep's mysterious new ally in Chapter 25 - The Shadow.  

Wishing you the blessings of health, safety, family, friends, peace and love in Anno Domine (The Year of Our Lord) 2020.