Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream (9 page)

Afterwards, he was in such a hurry to get away that he sold his house and property to JT for much less than it was worth.

I’ve been saving to pay back some of what he lost. Since he died before me, I can’t do that. I want to give you what I did manage to put away. I know your mother won’t take it, or anything else from me. She’ll never speak to me again. Can’t say as I blame her.

You’ll notice I included a map. Follow it to the box that I buried out back beyond the creek.

I wish it could be more. No one in the family knows about this. I’d prefer you keep it quiet, but the decision about telling is yours. My meddling days are over.

No logging’s been done on the property for years, so if you stay maybe you could look into it. That will help you keep the place going. If you let it, the land will draw you and you will grow to love it.

I love you, sweet Nora and Howie.

Your Grandma Evie

* * *

Sexual harassment.

My jaw had dropped at the mention of my mother, and it was still open when I finished reading. What did Grandma Evie mean that she didn’t think dad was guilty? Of what? What had happened? Who was involved? Why hadn’t Dad ever told me about this? Told me the truth when I asked? Or Mom? Neither had said a word.

I closed my mouth. My parents had never discussed sex with me, ever, so I guessed it wasn’t surprising that neither of them mentioned this.

Sexual harassment.

I wanted to run downstairs and demand Ida tell me everything. I wasn’t sure what stopped me. I told myself it was my concern for her.

Troubled, I read the letter a third time. I wondered what Mom would say now if I called and asked her outright. Howie would have a better chance of finding out. Mom was more open with him than she was with me.

* * *

On Tuesday morning I got up early. I had a plan for the day, formulated as I took the fastest shower of my life in water way below lukewarm. Damn water heater. Good for nothing.

Shivering as I toweled dry, I glanced out the window. Frost. In September? I’d forgotten about Maine mornings in late summer. I opened the window. Frost laced the bushes and lawn, the trees and old flower stalks. Despite the white puffs of steam coming from my mouth, I remained staring. How could I have forgotten how beautiful this place could look?

The land will draw you and you will grow to love it.

No. And no.

I stood back and closed the window on that thought.

I honed my day’s plan.

I decided to leave the mystery box buried for another day. It wasn’t going anywhere.

Seeing Ellie was a priority. And not just because I wanted to see my old house, which I still hadn’t managed to see. I’d been too busy visiting relatives, and hiding under beds.

Ellie had been a friend of my mother’s. She’d tell me what had happened all those years ago, what they all thought Dad might be guilty of, and who was involved in the sexual harassment incident. She’d know more than Aunt Ida, I figured.

I tried to call Ellie, but kept getting a busy signal. She didn’t have Call Waiting? Well, I’d pack so I was ready to leave tonight or tomorrow. After packing, I’d drive into town to Mary Fran’s and give her the emails. I hadn’t done that yesterday as I’d promised. Emails should be enough. I’d offer to write out what I’d heard and seen. Maybe that would take the place of photos. While I was in town I’d stop and pick up my résumé at the sheriff’s office, go over it carefully and call Lori with any changes I wanted. That way it would be ready tomorrow when I arrived back in New York. Then I’d go see Ellie whether she answered the phone or not.

Last on the list, I’d gather the old aunts and figure out what to do about the land. Even though part of me wanted to stay, I couldn’t. The Big Apple was home.

This all sounded good. Positive. I wrote it down. A certain satisfaction comes when you have a plan, especially when you commit it to paper in list form. You can cross things off a list and see that you’ve accomplished something.  Nothing tops a visual.

Once in a while if I do something that is not on my list, I cheat, and add it, just so I can cross it off. It’s the crossing off that’s satisfying. I didn’t see that happening today, of course, because I’d written down everything. Everything. Today was going to be a perfect day. No bodies, no rain, no snooping in someone’s computer, no hiding under beds. No lawyers.

With this in mind, I slipped into my black knit vee-neck dress, grabbed my camera and went downstairs. I’d take some scenery shots today, some by the stream.

Ida was at the stove making pancakes, watching a rerun of
Murder, She Wrote
when I came down.

She pressed Pause and said, “Hannah just called. Wants me to move in with her now that it’s official and you own so much land around here. Says I should let you have the house, too. Ever since she became president of the Senior Citizens she thinks she’s Queen of the World and can order everyone about.”

I wanted to ask about the sexual harassment. Instead, I said, “I don’t want the house, Ida. I’m not sure about the land either. Maybe I’ll just deed it to you.”

I wanted to tell her about the letter, question her about what had happened back then, but I decided to hold off until I’d spoken to Ellie.

“I’m not interested in ownership any more. House or land. I’m too old. A body only needs so much,” Ida said, flipping three pancakes onto my plate. “Where you off to this morning?”

“To town, then to JT’s. Want to come?”

Looking unsettled, she put the pan down. “I don’t particularly want to see Ellie. Something’s not right over there and I’d rather not know about it. I sensed friction at the party.”

Ida, like Hannah, wanted nothing to do with any unpleasantness. Did this come with age? I wondered, or was it something peculiar to Mainers?

“Well, while I’m there I’ll take some pictures. I’m sure the place has changed a lot since I lived there.”

* * *

The tote with the emails felt heavy. I wondered if I should deliver only a few to Mary Fran instead of this massive pack. I’d feel awful if I got all this stuff about a man I had loved. On the other hand, she already knew he was cheating.

By the time I reached the beauty parlor, I realized that kindness was not what she wanted. She wanted the truth, the cold, hard, devil-in-the-details truth.

When I entered, all spraying ceased in mid-spritz along with the conversation. Likewise, the hair dryers. I don’t usually have this effect on people so it wasn’t much of a mental leap to conclude they either knew what I’d been up to for Mary Fran, and I hoped that wasn’t it, or else they knew I’d found the body and were staring for ghoulish reasons, which I figured was more likely. All eyes followed Mary Fran as she left her customer. Before she spoke, I handed her the stack of papers.

“Thanks,” she said, clasping them to the chest, her eyes watering. “Let’s go to the back.”

Once out of earshot, I knew the time had come. I had to tell her. “Mary Fran, Percy was at the house yesterday.” I swallowed hard. “With … the woman.”

She staggered backwards and gasped as if she’d been punched. “In my home? The bastard. How low can he get?”

I hated to tell her the next part. “Yes. They … were in your bedroom. I didn’t have a chance to leave. I hid under your daughter’s bed. They didn’t see me.”

The color drained from her face. “He took that slut to my bed?”

I nodded.

“I’m thinking really bad thoughts, Nora,” she whispered, leaning toward me. “I want to kill him. Slowly.” She paused. “No. I just changed my mind. Not kill. I want to cut it off. Maybe throw it in the blender, make some chunky soup, so when he got out of the hospital I could serve it to him in a nice bowl. Maybe with a few crackers on the side. He likes crackers.”

She slumped into a chair next to the coffee machine, and I put my hand on her shoulder.

“How could he do this to me? How could he? I’ve been a good wife.”

“I’m sure you have. I know how you feel. Something similar happened to me a short time ago. Of course, I wasn’t married to the jerk, but it was close. You don’t want to do anything foolish, Mary Fran. It wouldn’t be worth it. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry. Getting his money will hurt him. I know him well enough to know that. I was feeling a bit guilty about using the prenup. Not any more.”

She swiped at the tears. “But it still hurts.”  

Relieved that she wasn’t going to hack off Percy’s body parts, I said, “You’ll get through this, Mary Fran. You will. And the pain will go away.” I wasn’t sure about that last part, but it sounded good.

She straightened her shoulders. I could almost see the steel stiffening her spine.

“He just called, you know. About Collins.”

I followed her back into the shop. “What did he say?”

“Who could have murdered him?” Mary Fran said, ignoring my question. “And why? I know the guy was a first class ass but murdering him. That’s a little extreme, don’t ya think?”

I nodded. “I do think that. Absolutely.”

Her customers stared at me as if they were waiting for me to say more. What? I had no idea. Mary Fran continued to the front desk and I followed. All eyes tracked our progress. She picked up a huge, multi-colored bundle of beads and I figured she was going to hang these around her neck, but they turned out to be her purse. She stuffed the papers inside.

“This probably means nothing,” she whispered quickly, “but Percy left early the last few mornings. Very early. He returned before my alarm went off. I was awake, of course, but I never spoke to him. I figured he’d been out owlin’ around with his ‘ho, but maybe not.”

Was she implying that Percy might have killed his partner? I wondered whether she was in danger.

“Did he know you heard him, Mary Fran?” I whispered.

“No. I never moved and I was breathing like I was asleep. I’ve had practice.”

I whispered, “Do you think he had anything to do with his partner’s death? Is that what you’re implying?”

She didn’t say anything immediately. Then she put her hand up to cup her mouth and whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. Lately there was friction between them. Don’t know what it was all about. I was too pissed at him to show much interest and he keeps things close to the vest.”

I nodded, then changed the subject as I walked toward the door. “I planned to leave today or tomorrow, probably tomorrow.”

“No!” She grabbed my hand and I froze and tried to wriggle free.

“You can’t leave, Nora. You haven’t taken the photos yet. The prenup states that I have to have irrefutable proof. That would be photos. You promised me photos.”

She dragged me back to the magenta-laminated counter, released my hand, thank God, and opened the cash register. She counted out a small pile of twenties. “Here, I didn’t pay you yet. It’s not that I forgot. I didn’t. Believe me. I just don’t know the protocol here. Hiring a private investigator is not something I’ve done before.”

“But you already gave me money.”

I refused to put my hand out. I do have some scruples.

“Yes. But even I know that was just a retainer. Now, I insist you take the rest for doing what you’ve done so far.” She forced the money into my hand.

I tried to return it. No luck.

“No. Keep it,” she insisted. “People should get paid for their services.”

Well, I had gotten the emails she wanted. I’d also suffered an allergy attack, ruined my clothes, endangered my body. I looked at the money, thinking a person could make a living this way.

“What’s the matter? Did I do a
faux pas
? I’m supposed to pay it all together? Come-on, tell me. I’m no good at this stuff.”

Standing there like a goof, I made a decision.

“You did it perfectly, Mary Fran. I’ll get those photos as soon as he sets up another meeting with her. I thought the emails would be enough, but I’ll get photos. As insurance. You’ll get your eighty percent. I’ll have to get into the computer again in a day or so. There was nothing there about the next meeting.”

Already I was thinking, next time I went to her house I’d bring a mask, wear old clothes, maybe bring some cat repellent spray, if there was such a thing.

Mary Fran looked relieved. I was scared. The limb I’d climbed out on was dipping dangerously.

“Wonderful. Super-dupe. The sooner the better … you know, just in case.”

Second thoughts hit me immediately. What had I done? Then the “in case” registered.

“In case what?” I asked.

“Well, if Percy’s arrested for murder he’ll need a lawyer and that’ll take a bundle. Can you imagine how it’ll eat into my part of the settlement?”

I smiled. “You’re always thinking, Mary Fran. On top of things.”

I was out the door when a woman wearing one of those plastic caps with the holes in it, came charging out.

“Stop!”

NINE

“I need your services,” the chubby woman with the holey cap said, panting as if she’d just finished the Boston Marathon. “Mary Fran told me how good you are at what you do, and that’s all the recommendation I need.”

Hair stuck through the holes on the right side of her cap giving her a lopsided appearance. I tried to concentrate on her less distracting left side, but the breeze swayed her bleached strands with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.

“I’m Vivian. I need a detective,” she said. “I never thought I’d say this. But I do. The sheriff isn’t helping one bit.”

I really had to tell people I was not a detective. Now was my chance. I started with a shake of the head. Nothing too vigorous, just a small negative shake. Then the protest. “I really–”

She raised her hand. “Don’t say a word. First let me tell you about Dora.”

I suppose I could listen to the Dora story. It was only polite. But after that I had to say no. An honest woman would say no. And I pride myself on being an honest woman. Most of the time.

“She was poisoned.”

My hand went to my heart. “Oh, my God.”

Three murders in Silver Stream. Had I come to the murder capital of the world? What was that sheriff doing to earn his paycheck? He’d hear a thing or two from me when I saw him.

“I think I know who did it, but I can’t prove a thing, which is where you come in.”

So this wasn’t recent. Thank God. I fingered the bills in my pocket. “And Dora is?”

“Was.”

I nodded somberly. “Was a friend? A relative?”

“My Pomeranian.

What on earth was a Pomeranian?

A fruit? I thought about it. No, that was a pomegranate.

“Describe her to me,” I said.

She gave me an odd look. “Dora had a long black coat that was especially full on the neck and chest. She was about six or seven inches high and weighed about five pounds.”

So we were talking about a sack-of-potatoes-size dog. I nodded sagely, like I knew it was a dog all along.

“So it was black,” I said, glancing down the street to see if the sheriff’s SUV was parked in front of his office. I wanted to see if he’d interviewed Percy yet.

“I’ll save you some trouble,” she said as I fished in my tote for a scrap of paper. “My next door neighbor is the perp. You can start there.”

Perp?
Hunh.

I handed her an appointment card from my dentist in New York. “Write down your name and phone number,” I said, passing her a pen.

As long as I had to stay and do photos for Mary Fran, I might as well check out this dog poisoning business. Keep myself busy. Make a few bucks. Maybe I could buy Aunt Ida a new hot water heater before I even sold the land. A person could make a business out of this detecting work.