Chapter 16

Martin spent the better portion of Wednesday studying the spreadsheet Shirley had prepared for him and reading the 19 years of corresponding stories she had copied and stacked neatly in chronological order in a manila expanding file. “Keep this out of Clark’s sight, Martin,” Shirley had warned him the previous night at Risky Dick’s. “He would shit a brick if he knew we were doing this.”

Martin knew Clark would not be happy to know he and Shirley were digging into a story that could cast a bad light on Burnett County. Martin also knew he had to plan out very carefully his next steps in taking this research and building a story that would…what? He thought throughout the day of what he was trying to accomplish by bring this story to light. Was it about getting justice for all the Native American girls whose lives Frank had ruined? Would he even care if Sharla hadn’t been one of that number?

And then, there was Shirley. One week ago, Martin knew nothing about her. She was a mystery he didn’t know much about. And now, she was his partner in crime, and he knew secrets about her life that were unknown by most of her friends and colleagues.

At the end of the day, Shirley called Martin on his phone extension and whispered to him, “Meet me in the conference room once everyone leaves.”

Martin looked around the office and saw that only Sam Jackson was left, and he was putting on his olive barn coat. “Don’t stay too late now, Marty,” Sam said as he pushed his chair under his desk. “You’ll make the rest of us look bad.”

Martin gave a forced chuckle and nodded. “Nope, I’ll be out of here in just a few minutes, Sam. Just need to finish up something.”

As Sam walked out, waving his hand above his head, Martin wondered what secrets could be discovered in Sam’s life. “What makes that guy so happy?” Martin thought.

+ + +

Martin heard Shirley’s clogs clunking across the wooden floor of the office as she moved to the conference room. Even though the offices were empty, he felt the need to shush her a bit as he carefully moved his chair back and got up to join her. “Martin, close the door,” Shirley said once he got in the room.

“Shirley, the office is empty. No one is here,” Martin responded, but closed the door anyway.

“I just want to make sure no one hears this if they happen to come back for something they forgot, or whatever,” she said quickly. She wrung her hands for a moment, and looked down at her pile of new stories shed copied throughout the day. When she looked back up at Martin, her face was dark and frowning.

“This just keeps getting worse and worse, Martin,” Shirley began. “At this point, I’m not sure if I’m seeing things that aren’t there, or if he’s been escalating through the years. I’ve got as many stories here from 1992 to 2000 as I’ve already given you for the first 19 years Talbot was teaching. More even! Stories about dropout rates, suicides attempts, unsolved attacks, vandalism at the school, you name it, all involving people from the Native American community and the school system here in Siren. It can’t be coincidence.”

Martin looked at her skeptically and held out his hand for the pile of stories. “We can’t really pin the entire decline of Burnett County on Frank Talbot, can we, Shirley?” he asked her. “Do you really see it all tied to Frank?”

Shirley shook her head, and answered, “No, no, I think I’m letting myself get carried away. At least a little.” She picked up the file, shook it and then slid it over to Martin. “But look at this, Martin. This is a lot of stuff. If even a portion of it can be tied to Talbot…”

Martin nodded and finished her thought, “…that’s a lot of girls’ lives that were ruined.” He paused a moment, looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “How long do you think it will take us to look through the newspapers from the last eight years?”

“I should be able to finish by the end of tomorrow,” Shirley replied. “And then it’s Good Friday, and the office is closed.”

Martin was conscious of the fact that at this point, Shirley was doing all the culling of stories, and he was merely reading and reacting to what she was giving him. As if reading his mind, Shirley said, “Martin, you have to come up with the plan for what you’re going to do with all this. I can find and pull the stories. You just think through what you’ll do next once you’ve looked it all over.”

“I know, and that’s what scares me,” Martin said as put his head down on the expanding file filled with potential evidence of Talbot’s misdeeds.

Shirley slapped her hand on the conference table, and Martin jerked his head up. “Hey, don’t give up on this now, Martin,” she said to him sharply. “You’re a smart guy. You can figure this out. Just keep playing dumb, and it will all come together.”

+ + +

Shirley was spot on with her timing. Another stack of stories, as high as the first 27 years together, was given to Martin by Shirley at the end of business on Thursday. They didn’t even make a pretense of what she was doing for him as the few co-workers who were still around at 5:00 p.m. saw their casual exchange and assumed she was just doing some copying for him for a new assignment he’d be tackling the following week.

“Thanks, Shirley,” Martin said to her. “I’ll read through everything this weekend, and by Monday, I’ll have a plan for what we should do next.”

“We, Martin?” Shirley asked him, with amusement in her voice. “I tell you what. You take it from here. The most I’ll commit to at this point is cheering you on silently from the sidelines.”

Martin was surprised at his own disappointment at knowing that they team work was now complete, and he was on his own. “Okay, Shirley, I’ll take it from here. Can I come to you for a little advice if I need it?” he asked her, shyly.

Shirley put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Yes, you can, but if I’m busy, you’ll just have to wait.” She slugged him in the arm, and continued, “I tell you what. I’ll go to church this weekend and pray for your work and your soul. I may even go tonight and remember the Last Supper of our Lord and Savior.”

Thinking about Shirley in church, taking the sacrament, made him laugh out loud. “Okay, you do that, Shirley.” As he turned to grab his coat from his desk chair, he stopped and turned back to look at her. “Wait a minute, Shirley. I wonder if any of the cast of characters in our little story here goes to St. Bart’s. Do you think any of them will be saying their prayers this weekend? I may just have to go and do a little repenting myself this weekend!”