LCole 07 - Deadly Cove (32 page)

I pulled my cell phone out, flipped it open, and saw three voice mails. I remembered the call that had come in when I had been talking to Laura Toles.

“Been busy,” I said.

“I guess,” she said, burrowing deeper into the comforter. “What happened to you? It looks like you've got a hell of a bruise starting up on your forehead.”

“Ran into a baseball bat,” I said.

“Want to tell me more about that?”

“Not at the moment,” I said.

“Fair enough,” Paula replied. “My friend, you really should move your spare key to another place. I could have been anybody you know, especially somebody with a bad intention.”

I said, “Only a very few people know where that key is. And everyone of them I trust.”

Her smile got wider. “Glad to know that.”

I went over and sat down on the couch, and she moved her legs to give me room. Her right hand was on top of the comforter, and I softly took her hand in mine and said, “It's over.”

“What?”

“It's over. The man who shot Bronson Toles and the Colby College student and who took a shot at you earlier today—he's been arrested. Done. You're safe. Nothing more to be afraid of.”

She squeezed my hand tight and closed her eyes. “Tell me more.”

“It was Vic Toles. The stepson. He was working with his mom.”

“My God. What the hell was going on?”

“What was going on was that Bronson had the rights to years of tapes he had recorded, of musical and comedy groups that had their start at the Stone Chapel, and those tapes were worth millions of dollars. Bronson wanted to spend the money for a variety of causes, and his wife and stepson wanted to take a break from the causes and to see how the other half lives.”

“And the college student? And me?”

I squeezed her hand. “He tried to kill me in the marshes after I interviewed Curt Chesak, and that poor John Thomas—he was the only witness to me and Vic being together, just before my supposed murder.”

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “And me?”

“I was pushing around, asking too many questions, and he thought that by … by causing you harm, I'd step away.”

Paula said, “I guess he doesn't know you that well.”

“You guess right.” I looked around my small living room. “You been here long?”

“Long enough,” she said.

“How are you doing?”

She sighed and sank back into the couch. “Much, much better since you came through that door and brought me that news. Lewis, I can't thank you enough, and—”

“How was it, back at your condo?”

Paula looked over my shoulder, at a distant point, and she started talking, in one long breath, as if whatever was inside had to come out, and had to come out quick.

“I was in my living room. It had been a long day. I was just tired … felt empty, like all the stories I had written since the gunshot had just drained and drained me. I went to the bathroom … my mouth felt foul and I was brushing my teeth, and then I went out to the kitchen to see what I might have for dinner … and I dropped my toothbrush…” Tears were rolling down Paula's cheeks, but her voice didn't quaver. “So I bent down … and the noise all sort of blended together … that glass breaking, the bang of the rifle being fired, and so many thoughts went through me, all at once … thinking I was hallucinating about what had happened at the Falconer campground, maybe I was sleeping and this was all a bad dream … but I hit the floor and knew it was real … knew he was out there, trying to kill me … I called the police by pulling my phone down off the wall … and then I scooted out, like a scared little girl … and I ran and ran to the east … to the beach … and I knew I had to be someplace safe … and this is where I ended up, Lewis … this is where I ended up…”

I squeezed her hand. “You're safe. It's over.”

Now she looked at me, tears still in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. “You're sure? You're absolutely sure?”

“He's in state police custody,” I said. “He's being charged with two first-degree murder counts, plus a host of other charges, including the shot at you this morning. Vic Toles is never going to see the free light of day, ever again. This isn't Massachusetts, this isn't New York. If he's very, very lucky, he won't face the death penalty. Paula, he can't hurt you, or attempt to hurt you. Ever again.”

Now she smiled and wiped at her nose. “You did it, didn't you. You made it happen.”

“I was lucky.”

Paula shook her head. “No. You told me you would take care of it, that you would make me safe, and by God you did it. You can do anything, can't you?”

“Not on most days.”

She laughed and rearranged the comforter around her. “So those tapes, those million-dollar tapes that caused all these deaths and shootings. Who gets them now?”

“Nobody, I guess,” I said. “Most of them don't exist anymore.”

“Why's that?”

“Because I torched them, that's why.”

She looked at me, gauging, I think, whether I was joking, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, crap, Lewis, that is so funny … that is so very precious … really? You burned them all?”

“Most of them,” I said.

“Why?”

“Extenuating circumstances. I was trying to save my butt.”

She smiled. “Such a cute butt it is.”

“It holds up my legs,” I said.

Then she stopped talking, and her face flushed, and she reached over and took my hand in both of hers and said, “Thank you. Thank you so very much … I … I really depended on you, Lewis, and you came through. Thank you.”

“I was glad to do it.”

Her hands didn't leave mine. “Lewis…”

“Yes?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Go right ahead.”

It was like having my head thunked for the second time that day, for she looked right at me with her bright eyes and teary smile and said, “Lewis, I love you. I've always loved you … and this … this has just made it that much clearer to me.”

*   *   *

What to say to something like that? I looked at those eyes and felt the flash of muscle memory, of the times a few years back when we had been lovers and something very sweet and special, and when I opened my mouth to say something, there was a heavy knock at my door.

I squeezed her hands and got up, and leaned down and kissed her briefly on the top of her head, and walked to the door. When I opened it up, the surprises kept on coming: It was Mark Spencer, town counsel, state senate candidate, and Paula's supposed boyfriend. He was wearing a dark gray wool coat that fell to his knees and was probably worth more than all of my coats put together.

“Is Paula here?” he asked briskly. He looked pressed for time. “I got her call just a couple of minutes ago.”

I opened the door wider. “Come on in. I think she's been waiting for you.”

He brushed past me and went into my living room, where Paula was standing up, a tentative smile on her face. They hugged, and he said words of concern and comfort, which I did my best to ignore, and in a manner of seconds, the two of them were leaving. Paula caught my eye and said, “Later?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Later.”

Mark led Paula out into the darkness, where his SUV sat, engine grumbling, lights on.

*   *   *

Much later I was in bed and trying to get to sleep after everything that had gone on during this day, and before I started dozing off, I remembered something: those unanswered calls to my cell phone made to me when I was stuck in the basement of the Stone Chapel. I stumbled out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen counter, where my cell phone was patiently charging up.

I switched on a kitchen light and, with bare feet on the cold floor, dialed up my voice mail account. There were three messages waiting for me: The first two were from Paula; both were tearful, both were asking where was I and could I please come home as soon as possible. After listening to them both, I deleted them.

The third message was from Annie Wynn. “Lewis, old man, sorry I've been playing phone tag with you … okay, you've been playing phone tag, and I've been playing campaign bitch on wheels. Look … I'm getting on a plane here in fifteen minutes and I'm going to … Christ, where am I going? Let me look at my boarding pass … Detroit. I'm off to Detroit … and I'll try to call you when I land.… Hope you're doing well … and friend … maybe it's the campaign or that time of the month, but I need to know something important from you … about where we're going after the first Tuesday in November … and I'm not looking for a commitment … but I'm looking for a commitment that this is going to be settled.… Damn, my flight's being called.… Later, sweetie…”

I paused, thinking about what I had just heard. My mind felt like it was surrounded by fog. I pressed the numeral on the keypad that saved the message and went back upstairs to bed, and it took a long time for sleep to come.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The day was cold and overcast, with rain predicted for later, and I couldn't stop yawning. I was back at the Falconer nuclear power plant site, and I had been cleared to return with a phone call to Ron Shelton that had been accepted with quick professionalism. With me on the same knoll of land as before was Detective Sergeant Diane Woods in black fatigues and wearing a riot helmet with the plastic visor up.

She said, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks for the vote of support,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“Waiting for this last day of nonsense to end, that's how I'm doing,” she said. Out on the salt marsh, beyond the fence line, protesters were gathering in ragged bunches. These weren't the larger groups from the past few days; these people were from the hardcore Nuclear Freedom Front, and it didn't look like there was much hardcore left in anyone.

Even the cops seemed more relaxed, and the National Guard troops were missing as well. I said something about that, and Diane said, “The governor and the legislature don't want to spend a nickel more on this circus than they have to, and so it's up to us cops. Doesn't look like it's going to be much of a problem.”

“Looks like you're right,” I said.

“Speaking of problems—kudos on what you did on the Toles case. How's your head?”

“Doing fine.”

“Hell of a bruise there. What did you do, run into a door?”

“Something like that.”

“Hah. I guess we all have our reasons. I suppose Paula Quinn is doing better.”

“Yep.”

She looked at me, and I looked at her, and my oldest friend laughed. “Go on. You know you can't keep secrets from your Auntie Diane. What's going on with your Paula Quinn?”

“Not sure if she's my Paula Quinn … but she's something. You see, after Vic Toles shot at her, she had a number of choices where to go.”

“So she ended up at your house.”

“Yeah. When I got there later, she was on my couch. We were having a nice little chat and then, just about one minute before her boyfriend showed up, the honorable town counsel from Tyler, she looked up at me and told me that she loved me.”

“Loves you like one loves chocolate, or something more meaningful?”

“The second.”

“Oh, my poor boy. What did you say to her?”

“With her supposed boyfriend rolling through my front door, not much. Just said we'd talk later. To make things even more interesting, I got a phone message from Annie Wynn, saying it was time for me to man up or something. She wants a commitment for us to discuss what happens next.”

“She talking marriage?”

From the salt marsh I could make out some halfhearted chants and jeers. “Not necessarily. It looks like she's going to be in D.C. when the election is over, win or lose, and she wants to know whether I'm going to D.C. or not.”

“Your old stomping grounds.”

“Didn't particularly like it at the time, and I think I'd like it less if I went back. Even with Annie there, keeping the home fires burning. Or something.”

Diane smiled and gently tapped me on the shoulder. “Sweet old Lewis. Women problems, up and down the line. What's a guy to do?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I was planning to ask you.”

“Advice? Advice on women? My dear boy, that's a mystery I'll never be able to solve. Even if I do pee sitting down along with billions of my sisters.”

Her attitude was bright and cheerful, and something came to me. “All right, now it's time to talk to Uncle Lewis. What's going on with you and Kara?”

The smile was so bright it was almost blinding. Then she raised her left hand and wiggled the fingers at me. Light flickered on a diamond ring I had never seen before.

“True?”

“Oh, very true, Lewis.”

“You two set a wedding date yet?”

“First day of summer, next year. Which is the anniversary of our first date. Can you believe it?”

I hoped my smile matched hers. “Diane, that's great, great news.”

“So you better be there that June day, my friend, or it's going to be dangerous driving in Tyler for the rest of your life.”

“Wouldn't miss it for anything.”

“Glad to hear that, because you're going to be part of the ceremony—and no excuses. I want you to stand with me when I get married.”

“Diane, I'd be honored.”

She was still smiling, even as her eyes moistened. “Thanks it's been a long, long haul—and who can believe that this quirky little state will give Kara and me marriage rites. Oh, such a long haul…”

“Are you finally coming out of the closet?”

“I've been half in and half out for the past few years, Lewis, but I'm going to be so hard and fast out of the closet its door is going to be orbiting Jupiter.”